


First Born

by MoriartyMastermind



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Law School, M/M, Matt murdock is a witch, S2 what S2, btw stick is like?? really brief. he's not there that long., he's also gonna be a lawyer lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-09-10 23:18:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8943451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoriartyMastermind/pseuds/MoriartyMastermind
Summary: Matt is a Witch. Hell's Kitchen is his charge. Foggy Nelson owes him his first-born child.





	1. Prologue: First Born

**Author's Note:**

> So this whole witchcraft universe I pretty much made up on my own. I'll try and make it clear what everything means and all that. I might add some chapter notes to clarify a few times. This is also my first Daredevil fic, so lets hope I don't totally mess this up. Btw, there is some sexual stuff in this chapter? Nothing explicit or described in detail, just a brief request from a creepy guy when it comes to magic.

It’s started the moment he met Stick.

“So why did you choose me?” He asked him. 

“Because your mother made a stupid decision, but was smart enough to divert attention from the assholes up top. You know about witchcraft, kid?” Stick didn't turn to look at him.

“Yeah,” Matt took a generous lick of his ice-cream. “They take people’s souls don’t they?”

“Well, that’s occasionally part of the deal,” Stick chuckled. “More often it’s something physical. Your mom made a deal with a Witch, and she owed em’ her first-born. She wasn’t magical, they didn’t think her kid would be magical…but surprise, surprise your father was and he laid a pretty good enchantment on you that kept you safe from us. If he wouldn’t have died, maybe we’d have never found you.” Matt thought Stick sounded impressed.

“My dad was a Witch?” Matt furrowed his brow, “No. He couldn’t have been, he would’ve told me. Witches are girls anyway, right?” 

“Witches, Warlocks- semantics don’t matter…but your dad was not officially a Witch. In order to be a Witch, he had to be part of a coven. He’s what we call a Matchless. The Matchless are naturals with magic, but haven’t been claimed by any coven or formally taught. ”

“So if my dad was a Matchless…what am I?”

“You’ll be a Witch soon. That’s what we do for Claimed first-borns who are lucky enough to have magic.”

* * *

 

And so Matt was trained. Sure, Stick taught him a lot more than magic. All kinds of fighting styles, how to use his senses…but magic was also part of the deal. 

“After we’re done training you’ll be assigned a charge,” Stick dodged a blow from Matt and hit him with his cane.

Matt fell to the ground and groaned. “A charge?”

“Claimed first-borns are used for charges. It's pretty much part of the deal: if a Regular gives up their kid, then the Witches take them.  If you’re not given some kind of job they’ll hunt you down and give you one,” Stick continued to talk as Matt got up. “Regulars have a habit of summoning Witches and somebody needs to do their dirty work.” 

Regulars, Matt had been taught, are simply people without magic. Matt didn't like the term very much, it made it seem like they were separate than him- lesser, somehow...but he knew just because he had magic it didn't make him any better than people who didn't.

“What do you mean?” Matt rubbed at the newly formed bruise on his side.

“Well, a really long time ago some asshole Regular discovered that Witches could be summoned with a kind of ritual. It has to do with how magic works when you’re part of a coven...Witches like to stay together, they create a very clear magical imprint that's easy to take advantage of when you know how to do it. Witches had to choose people responsible for certain areas, give them their charge…and so there’s usually some poor Witch who deals with whatever a Regular wants in a certain area. The New York coven is separated into a number of different charges, they try to keep it within a few blocks so it's not chaos for whoever has the job... That’s what Claimed first-borns are for.” 

“Do I have to do that?” Matt didn’t like the sound of it...being called at random to do the work of somebody who he doesn't know.

“That or they lock you up for avoiding work. Magical prison isn’t the same as Regular prison, kid. It’s _significantly_ worse.” Matt thought it sounded like Stick spoke from experience.

* * *

 

When Stick left him Matt had thought that meant he didn't have to be a Witch anymore. Maybe, he could be normal, or a Matchless like his dad- but only a day after Stick abandoned him somebody else came to him at the orphanage…somebody part of the New York coven. They told him Stick had gone off the map, but taught him enough that he could start his job. They gave him work in Hell’s Kitchen. 

Well, Matt actually _begged_ for work in Hell’s Kitchen…he couldn’t imagine working anywhere else. The New York coven agreed it was a small enough area that he could handle it on his own.

It was rare he was summoned at first, not many people summoned Witches in Hell’s Kitchen. The first time he was called it was somebody who wanted to find out if their wife was cheating on them. It was a simple truth-finder spell, not too hard for him. He had a few repeat clients, people who always had something they wanted to ask for- but it didn't happen often.

There are some limits to what Regulars are allowed to request. Killing people, bringing people _back_ from the dead, physically manipulating people’s emotions or actions etc. There's a very long list of things that were banned. Matt had read every bit, careful to make sure he wasn't going over any boundaries. For the first few weeks he had his charge, he remembered constantly letting his hands brush over the Braille rules that had been provided to him. There were so many rules and conditions...the New York coven had done a good job trying to cover all their bases. Anytime somebody was caught requesting banned spells Matt immediately reported back to the New York coven and they would be dealt with.

There's also a price for Regulars whenever Matt had to do his work. Magic had a habit of wanting retribution when used for those who didn't have it. If Matt did a spell of his own (he rarely did, but usually they were simple spells like getting food or endless hot water) the magic didn't mind...he was gifted it, it was part of his soul and thus did not have a price. But for Regulars? Magic was a very complicated thing, the rules of the universe say they _need_ to pay a price for taking advantage of powers that had not been given to them. Regulars who wanted information had to give a piece of their memory. People who wanted riches had to give their eyesight.

( _“What if I was a Regular and wanted riches, I’m already blind.” “It doesn’t work that way, Murdock.”_ ) 

It was a complicated exchange system, and depending on the exact request and the particular person Matt had to adjust the price.

One price was pretty constant though: if you’re saving a life that would otherwise die, they owe you their first-born.

It didn't take long for Matt to start hating his work. The people he met were often crass and inappropriate- they were unkind and rude. Every bit of magic somebody else took from him always left him feeling wrong...He tried to avoid doing his work, once. Some man had requested he do a sexual spell.

_ "Endless blowjobs! Anytime I want a good suck I want to feel the lips around me. Come on kid, get it done. Make sure it works too." _

He was only 14 at the time and very disgusted with the request. It wasn't as if it was him doing the work, it was just his magic- his spell...but it felt wrong and violating. He refused. That resulted in a long conference with some leaders in the New York coven and a heavy warning that if he tried to avoid a job again he would be ‘severely punished’ as they had put it.

They also didn’t give him pay for a whole month.  

He learned to keep a low profile. Most people really disliked Witches…a few of the nuns had magic but none of them dared to let it spread around the church. He didn’t let any Regulars know he was a Witch, and when he met other Witches he was careful to not let them know he was Hell’s Kitchen’s ‘Claimed first-born.’ The people of the coven were often really snobby about their family lines…and people like Matt whose family line ‘gave him up’ as a Claimed first-born were especially looked down upon. He wasn't of 'pure' magic as one Witch he met had put it. He met a few Matchless though, they were often very secretive, as well and disliked the coven almost as much as he did.

Matt didn’t want to work with Witches much, even though he technically was one. He didn't choose to be a part of a coven, he was forced into it because his mother made a deal. He liked Regulars and Matchless, he felt more at home with them- more normal. He wanted a normal job too…something where he could help people. 

He wanted to become a lawyer. It was rare that a Witch chose a 'Regular's job', but he knew it happened. His witching job paid, money just like anything else, but it wasn't a large sum and he didn't feel like he was really helping anybody with his job- he felt like he was doing other's dirty work.

So he used the money he made as Hell’s Kitchen’s Claimed first-born to get through undergrad and he worked especially hard to get great grades. The work came easy to him, he was a remarkable student and a natural at standardized tests. A few of his professors knew he was a Witch (for those few times he was summoned in the middle of a test) and distrusted them- but he made it clear it was against Witching law to cheat with magic in a normal University...and he didn't have any advantages over the other students. 

(Save for his senses, but he couldn't help those. In fact, they were only distracting when taking tests. He soon figured out that none of the New York coven knew he had super-senses...it was still his secret to keep. He supposed all he learned from Stick through fighting and controlling his senses...was something else entirely.)

After graduating he applied to Columbia law school and got accepted. Things didn’t feel complicated, they felt good, he could deal with his magical work and his work in law school at the same time. No problem.

Things didn’t have to be complicated.

* * *

He was wrong.

A familiar tug pulled at his finger tips and he sighed. He hadn’t had a call throughout the month, and he was expecting to get one soon- but it was still frustrating. He had been packing his things to go to his dorm in the morning. His first day at Columbia was _tomorrow_ why did somebody need to call him _now_. His spell work was usually fairly fast, but depending on the exact request it could get complicated.

His hands still buzzed, he felt the magic in his fingers anytime someone called. As if there were strings tied to them, pulling him somewhere. He pressed his hands together and said his word, “Accipio.” ( _I accept_ )

There was a faint hum around his ears and he braced himself before his body was thrown to the job. It took a while to get used to when he first accepted a job (the sudden change in atmosphere and area messed with his senses) but at this point he was used to it. He was in a different place, somebody’s home. It smelt like cinnamon and old books. He could feel the warmth in front of him and identified the objects around him. Candles. Incense. Chalk. He took in the heartbeat in front of him, it was slightly faster than average- either due to fear or health. Perhaps both. It was a man. He had…long hair. He could hear the way it swished around the man’s ears.

“You called?”

The man jumped, “Y-yeah. I need some…um…” The man had a beard as well. The hairs made a certain sound around his mouth when he spoke.

Matt frowned. He always hated this. These people were always so desperate. What was this man calling him for? Did he want to discover his true love? He needed to scare his nemesis? So much of them motivated by greed, “Spit it out.”

“I need help.”

Matt rolled his eyes under his glasses, “What kind?” He wanted to get this over with. He needed to finish packing and pre-populating his classes for tomorrow.

“You’re a witch?” The man asked. Matt could tell he moved towards him, there were no buzzing lights. Matt was probably bathed in shadow...save for the candles he could feel around him.

“I am.”

“But you're a man.”

“I’ve been told. Now what do you need.”

“Help…with…with my mom," his heartbeat picked up and Matt could taste salt in the air. The man had started crying. "She’s sick. Really sick and the doctors say she can’t be helped. She’s so young I can’t- I have to start school and I don't want her to be gone when I come back...I just want her to be healed.“

Matt tilted his head and had senses fold over the home. There was a room, another person in the house…a women. Her lungs sounded- wrong. There were multiple masses, “Lung cancer?” His voice was softened. It wasn't very often he got jobs like this, most people were motivated by greed, but Matt could tell this was motivated by love. 

“How did you?” The man shook his head, “Never mind. You’re a witch…why should I be asking a witch questions. I want you to help her, to heal her so her cancer won’t come back.”

Matt furrowed his brow, “I can do that, but before you do this you need to know it has a price.” Matt could already tell this was a one life for another deal. Very powerful magic, this woman was going to die soon. 

“How much money?” The man obviously hadn’t done this before. Sometimes Matt forgot that the the New York coven was fairly secret about their work, not many people knew that much about Witches. Hell, this man obviously had assumed most Witches were women.

“Not like that. It would be something important…special. In order to complete my work I need to claim your first-born.” Matt heard the man’s heartbeat speed up significantly.

“M-my first-born? I don’t have any kids.” 

“Your first-born child. If you have a child. In order to save your mother I have to acquire another life. They won’t be killed, but they won’t be yours anymore.”

“Wait…then whose will they be?”

Matt felt the man’s presence. He let his magic reach out and touch him…this man didn’t have any magic. Their first-born wouldn’t become a Witch unless he had a child with somebody magical.

“A Witch from the New York coven would take them. They’d be given a job like all the other Claimed first-borns. You can still meet them. They'd still be officially under your parentage, but a Witch will have to take care of them,” The New York coven wasn’t entirely cruel. The original parents were still allowed to visit their children…but not live with them. A Witch has to train the first-born for their purpose, and only Regulars make these kind of deals.

“What if I don’t have kids?”

 Matt tilted his head and gathered the mother’s age. Forty.

“The magic will find a way to get paid…If you don’t have children by the time you’re 40 then you’ll probably gain the cancer your mother currently has. However, magic is a fickle thing…I can’t tell you the exact results.” Matt had heard of a few people who didn't pay their price...Magic got angry then, it had a habit of somehow killing whoever had made the request. 

The man frowned but nodded, “So if I don’t make any kids within the next 19 years…I'll probably get incurable cancer.” Matt frowned even more, this man was his age, only 21. “Anything to save my mom. Do your work, I’ll deal with the consequences.”

And so Matt did his work. 


	2. Warm Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy and Matt meet as roommates. It's not nearly as awkward as you might expect.

Foggy was happy for the first time in a long time. The Witch he summoned did a great job, he was pretty much silent when he did his work. Foggy just awkwardly stood around when the man started speaking in Latin under his breath. The guy was, odd, to say the least- but then again Foggy hadn’t met any Witches before. Maybe they all wore glasses inside? He didn’t know. He didn’t even know Witches could be men. Really, really hot men. 

Weren’t they Warlocks or something? Wizards? 

Sure, Foggy owed something, his first-born child apparently…but he barely even gave a thought to something that could happen 19 years in the future. He’ll find a way around the rules, he’s going to be a lawyer. He’ll be the best damn witchcraft lawyer ever. There are always loopholes, and Foggy will take advantage of them.

The Witch left just as quickly as he came, and after the man disappeared Foggy went immediately to his mom. When Foggy rushed into his mom’s room he was relieved to find her looking healthy. Better than healthy, she looked _bright_. Her hair had grown back, her skin was glowing and the bags under her eyes had miraculously disappeared. 

Despite Foggy’s happiness, his mom was pretty pissed.

“Foggy. What did you do?” She reached towards her chest, her voice sounded clear. It wasn’t wrought with phlegm and rough like it had been. Foggy didn’t answer her so she spoke again, “Franklin Percy Nelson…What. Did. You. **_Do_**?”

His head snapped up at his given name. “I…Uh- I got a Witch to heal you.”

She shook her head and paced the room, “What did you give her? Your soul? Foggy…magic isn’t- you know Witches are very dangerous. I could have been fine, Foggy!”

“It was a man, actually. He was nice. He didn’t just heal you he…look at you mom!” Foggy held his hands out towards her in a grand gesture. “Your hair is back! You look beautiful and young! Like all those years never happened!”

His mother sighed and she smiled, “Of course. I’m happy, Foggy. I’m happy to be healthy…but at what cost? What did you give up?”

Explaining the whole first-born thing left her sobbing, but Foggy had explained what the Witch told him.

“Look mom…he said that I’d still technically be a parent. I’d still be able to meet them. And that’s years away! I’ll find a loophole, mom. Remember when I got that 30% discount off of brie cheese after finding a loophole in that coupon book? Remember? It’ll be like that.”

“Giving up your first-born child isn’t the same as expensive cheese, Foggy. What if you don’t have a child by that time? What if you get my cancer by the time you turn my age?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, mom. This can’t be undone. I need to pack now, call the rest of the family and let them know…Wait- call up dad and Candy! Oh my God! We need to tell them!”

His father was at work, and his younger sister Candace was on a carefully arranged outing with her friends.

It’s not like Foggy would’ve gone and summoned a Witch with the rest of his family around.

The rest of the night was spent putting Foggy’s things together so he could go to his dorm in the morning, and calling up different relatives and letting them know about his mom’s miraculous recovery. They only let the immediate family know about the Witch thing…he didn’t need the rest of the Nelson clan calling him up and scolding him. His thoughts wandered to his Aunt Bertha and he gave a full-body cringe. Aunt Bertha can never find out about this.

His mother, sister, and father all _insisted_ on driving with him to his housing, even though it was a 30-minute drive, traffic was terrible…and seriously, he would have been fine taking the subway and a few buses. Yes, he will be visiting them next week. He _swears_. No, he won’t be making friends with Witches- seriously, Candy, stop mentioning it.

It was a long, and arduous car ride. As car rides with his family always were.

When they got to his dorm it took a considerable amount of convincing to get his family to leave him. They all wanted to meet his roommate…but he made the argument that for all he knew, they could show up hours later- and he needed to start signing up for his classes.

So now, his classes won’t load. He’s already got five classes down (legal methods, constitutional law, criminal law, contracts and torts) but his civil procedure and Punjabi class just **_will not_** load. There’s a beautiful woman who spoke Punjabi…he saw her at orientation, he will _get_ that class.

“Goddamn it, come on! Load. _Load_!” He screamed at his computer and then heard a knock on the door as it opened. “Wha’?”

“Excuse me, is this room 312?” a voice asked. A pretty familiar voice.

Foggy paid no attention, still looking at his classes. “Yeah, who are you looking for?” He looked up from his computer and took in the man.

A very familiar man.

“Holy shit, you’re my Witch.” Foggy stared at the guy who now stood stock still. He was in the same glasses as the night before, and Foggy’s eyes drifted down to the cane he was holding. “Oh. A blind Witch,” so that would explain the glasses inside then.

“I…” The man’s jaw was wide open. “Um, I’m sorry I can leave. I didn’t mean…this is-“

Foggy broke into a wide smile, “Holy shit, man! This is crazy!” Foggy took in the large bag that the man was holding, “You’re my roomie! You don’t need to leave… We don’t need to change rooms. You saved my mom. She’s looking great, and I’m so grateful for that.”

“You owe me your first-born son,” the man looked perplexed.

“Yeah, but-” Foggy stood up from his bed and shrugged. “That’s years in the future and you did an awesome job with my mom. So really I’m just happy you saved her. It was my choice to make the deal. I just think it’s insane we both ended up in the same room…” Foggy furrowed his brow, “Wait. You didn’t do that right? To keep tabs on me? Make sure I get laid and have a kid? Because that would be weird.”

The man chuckled, a confused chuckle, but a chuckle nonetheless. “No! No, this is just as crazy to me as it is to you,” he held out his hand. “Uh, Matt Murdock.”

Foggy shook it. “Foggy Nelson,” then the name dawned on him. “Wait…Matt Murdock? Are you- you’re not from Hell’s Kitchen, are you?”

“Yeah, born and raised.”

“So am I!” Foggy was just getting more and more interested, “Yeah. I heard about you when you were a kid, what you did, saving that guy crossing the street.”

Matt finally started to put down his things. Foggy could see the tension slowly ease from his shoulders. His…very nice shoulders.

“I just did what anyone would have-“

“Bullshit. You are a hero,” Foggy pointed at finger at him. “You saved my mom too. Do you just go around saving people? Is that your job, as a Witch too? Why are you going to law school?”

Matt shook his head, “I’m really not a hero- and well, my job- it uh…” Matt cleared his throat, “It’s just that. A job. I have to do it, the New York coven chose it for me. I chose to go to law school for myself.”

“I beg to differ on the hero thing- come on, you got your peepers knocked out saving that old dude. And you did a lot more than just do ‘your job’ with my mom. I just asked for you to cure her cancer, but you made her glow. Her hair was back…she looks years younger.”

“Well, I don’t consider my job done if I don’t do it well. Making your mother healthy again, includes all of that,” the tension continued to ease out of Matt. “And my eyes- they didn’t get knocked out.”

“Good,” This guy was really, really hot. Foggy was awkward. Why is he saying these things. “Cause that would be a little freaky. But no offense.”

Matt eased into a wide smile, “Please, none taken. Most people dance around me like I’m made of glass. I hate that.”

“I mean…you’re a pretty powerful Witch, right? Definitely not made of glass. You’re just a guy. A uh,” Foggy nodded and gulped. Maybe he could make a move on Matt now. Maybe his parents could forgive him for going out with a Witch. “A really, really good-looking guy.”

Foggy could see all of Matt’s tension come crawling back into his shoulders. Matt looked at him awkwardly, “Oh, um.”

Okay. So obviously straight.

“I mean, girls must love that right, the whole…wounded, handsome duck thing. Am I right?” And now he is stumbling on his words. To this strange beautiful Witch man.

“Right,” Matt chuckled. “Yeah, it’s been known to happen.”

“What do the girls think of the whole Witch thing? Do they think it’s hot?” Foggy asked.

“You see,” Matt frowned. “I’d rather you not mention it to anybody, please. I don’t go around telling people I’m magic and…people aren’t as open as you seem to be about these things. I want to leave that behind me. I want people to think I’m as normal as anybody else.”

“Yeah, of course, of course,” Foggy quickly agreed before he heard a ding on his computer. “Oh shit…” He want back to his computer and saw his registration complete. “Yes, I’m in!”

“In what?”

“Punjabi, I got the last spot.”

“You’re taking Punjabi?”

 

* * *

 

Falling into a routine with Matt was easy enough. There was still some residual tension around the whole magic thing, but Foggy worked to make Matt as comfortable as possible. Even though the Latin was kind of hot, to be honest, and made his heart pick up quite a few paces anytime Matt spoke it. Foggy walked in on Matt whispering in Latin to his cup of coffee once, he was extremely confused until Matt explained.

_“It got cold. I made it warm again.”_

That lead to him asking Matt to warm up his coffee…and then asking a lot more about magic. He’s already got some vocabulary down that Matt explained to him. Apparently people like him are called Regulars. He remembered when Matt first started talking about it,

“You’re a Regular, Foggy I can’t do too much for you,” Matt said after Foggy asked him to warm up his cup of coffee for the fifth time that day.

Foggy turned his head to Matt, who sat on his desk, studying. “What do you mean I’m a regular? A regular, what?”

Matt vaguely looked up at him from the book he had been running his hands over. He wasn’t wearing glasses, so Foggy could see his eyes drift somewhere towards Foggy’s left shoulder, “Oh. Have I not explained anything to you about the terms Witches use? Do you not know any of them?”

“Matt, I think I’ve made it pretty clear this whole magic thing is new to me. You’re the first Witch I’ve ever met, and I thought you had to be a women,” Foggy leaned in from his bed. Where he still had the cold coffee in his hands. “So give me a little vocabulary lesson. Tell me why you can’t do too much for a regular guy like me.”

Matt turned toward him and tilted his head. Something Foggy was beginning to realize was something he did whenever he was thinking.

“Well…when somebody is a Regular, it just means somebody who doesn’t have magic.”

“Like me.”

“Yes, like you. Then there are Witches like me, people who are part of a coven. Magic has been gifted to certain people, for whatever reasons- nobody knows why it chooses certain people over others…but it runs in families. When a lot of magic is used on a Regular, somebody who hasn’t been gifted magic, it usually wants some kind of payback.”

Foggy frowned, “Why?”

“I don’t know, why. In fact, I think it’s a little odd that you haven’t had to give any payback, because recently I’ve been warming up your coffee a lot, and giving you just that extra bit of food. Making sure your hangovers go away,” Foggy listened as Matt explained.

“I didn’t ask you to do all that.” He didn’t. Really, the only thing he’d been asking about is coffee. Matt had been doing all that for him?

“I just do something for you whenever I do it for me, Foggy. I think that’s common courtesy.”

Foggy nodded. “Maybe I don’t need to pay it back because you gave those things to me without me asking.”

“That’s probably why,” Matt continued. “Anyways, do you want me to keep explaining the vocabulary?”

“Yeah, go on. So I’m a Regular. You’re a Witch. Any other terms I should know?”

“There are also people with magic called Matchless. They are naturals when it comes to performing magic, but are not a part of a coven. My dad was a Matchless,” Foggy was about to interrupt and ask why Matt was in a coven if his dad wasn’t, but Matt kept speaking. “Then there are Inklings. Inklings are people with magic, but they’re not naturals at it. A person can go their entire life as an Inkling, simply thinking that they’re a Regular.”

“Matt. You said your dad was a Matchless. Then why aren’t you a Matchless?”

“I…” Matt frowned. Foggy had heard Matt explain to him that the coven gave him his job, that he had to do his work, but never why. “The New York coven found me and made me a part of their coven. They gave me a job, that I have to do.”

“That doesn’t answer my question Matt, you’ve told me that already.”

“You know how you owe the coven your first-born, Foggy?”

Foggy nodded, “Yeah.”

“Well my mom made a similar deal you did. She gave me up, before leaving us. Then my dad was able to protect me from the coven for a while with the magic he had as a Matchless. After he died I was… taken, trained for my work and given my job,” There was a bitter note in his voice while Matt explained.

“Do you not want to be a Witch, Matt?”

Matt shook his head and looked down, his eyes darted quickly back and forth, “I never wanted to be a part of the coven, Foggy. It’s like I’m being controlled every time someone calls me. Every time somebody wants me to use their magic for greed or corruption- I have to help them, even if I don’t want to.”

“I’m sorry,” Foggy said. He didn’t know Matt felt that way. Did Matt secretly dislike him? Did he feel controlled by Foggy anytime he asked him to warm his coffee? Or the first time they met…that was Foggy using Matt, taking something that wasn’t his.

“For what?”

“For using you,” He didn’t know Matt felt controlled.

Matt shot his head up and quickly waved his hands in Foggy’s direction. “No! No. Foggy I never thought about it like that with you. What I did for your mom I was happy to do. What I do for you, I am happy to do. There’s nothing about it I regret, except for the price I had to deliver the first time.”

“So why can’t you leave the coven, Matt? Is there anything you can do to leave? Do people get kicked out?” He needed to start doing some reading. Some people were specializing in witchcraft law, maybe he could ask them for their books.

“Well there’s another bit of vocabulary for you,” Matt chuckled darkly. “The Removed. Some people- who are either really bad with magic, or are shunned by the coven, or aren’t a first-born like me and want to leave. They’re a Removed. I’ve only known one person who ever left the coven, and he did it by disappearing completely,” Matt got a far away look in his eyes. Foggy could tell there was more to the story, but decided not to press on.

“What if you start just really sucking at your job. Maybe they’ll kick you out,” Foggy smiled. “Somebody wants three-million dollars? You get them three-million sand dollars. They’ll never see it comin’.”

Matt started to laugh, “Foggy I can’t do that.”

“Matt! Sand dollars. It’s a genuine mistake…Or…Or maybe somebody wants something and…Uh… Remember Fairly OddParents?”

“Fairly OddParents?”

“They ask for a ham and cheese omelette and you give them their omelette…just not on a plate. You can be like that genie who tricks people if they’re not specific enough.”

“Foggy, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Why would someone summon a Witch for a ham and cheese omelette,” Matt sounds confused but Foggy considered his efforts a job well done considering that Matt was now throwing his head back in a laugh.

Conversations like that started to become pretty common, but Matt made it clear that the New York coven was obsessive over loopholes, and the jokes they made about it were really just jokes. Not solutions.

* * *

The first time Foggy saw Matt get called for a job was in the middle of their torts class. Foggy was half-way asleep. It was about two months into the semester, and Matt was listening intently to the lecture before he stood up out of the nowhere and walked out of the classroom.

Foggy, rightly concerned with his friend’s sudden change in attitude, stood up and followed him silently. When he made it out of the classroom he saw Matt move into a secluded hallway.

“Matt!” He called out and walked towards him. “What are you doing?”

Matt turned his head toward him, “I’ve been called for a job, Foggy. Go back into class, I’ll follow up with you later,” before Foggy could respond Matt put both his hands together and whispered. “Accipio.”

He was gone, and Foggy blinked at the empty space before he sighed and went back to the torts class. Now he had to actually pay attention and take some really good notes for Matt. He’ll read them out to him when Matt comes back.

He went back in, sat down, rubbed his eyes and got his notebook out. God. He had to actually pay attention instead of reading the lecture notes afterwards. _Torture_. He chuckled. _Torts-ure_. He began to write with his pen, and stayed focused for the rest of the class.

When he stood up to leave he noticed Matt’s cane was folded up in the seat next to him. Foggy picked it up and groaned. His friend was alone, at some random place in Hell’s Kitchen, because some random person summoned him- and without his cane.

He shoved it into his messenger bag and headed to his last class of the day. Civil procedure, well, at least he liked civil procedure. Matt didn’t show up for the entirety of the class, and Foggy was concerned.

He walked alone back to his dorm and when he opened the door he saw Matt sprawled out on his bed. His face was pale and he was sweating enough that strands of hair stuck messily onto his forehead.

“Holy shit, Matt. Are you okay?”

Matt didn’t move his position but spoke quietly, “I’m fine. This happens sometimes.”

“You’ve been gone for two hours, Matt. Do your jobs usually take this long?” From what Foggy remembered Matt had only been there to help his mom for about ten minutes.

“No. No. It’s just some guy asked me to kill his wife.”

Foggy’s eyes widened, “Oh my God…Matt, did you?”

“No!” Matt’s voice was strong. “Absolutely not. I had to call the coven and they took the guy away. I was gone for so long because they had to do a separation spell.”

“Separation spell?”

“I was summoned, when I don’t do anything after being summoned it can really mess with me. A spell has to be done to make sure that whatever ritual he did to make me do a job is officially broken. It leaves me…” Matt lazily turned his head into a pillow. “A little wiped out.”

“Okay, I took some good notes from class. I’ll read them to you later. Do you want anything?” Foggy got up and fetched a towel, he went to the sink and dampened it with water before throwing it in the microwave. “I’m getting you a hot towel. You want some tea? We’ve got calming chamomile, mint medley, and jasmine green tea.”

“You don’t have to do that Fog…”

“Bullshit, Murdock. I want to do it. Now what kind of tea do you want?”

Foggy could see Matt make a small smile. “Mint, please.”

And thus, Foggy really hated the whole Claimed first-born thing. Matt didn’t want to do this. Why should he be forced to do it? Especially if it can leave him weak and sick like this.

He’s _definitely_ signing up for a witchcraft law class next semester.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was from Foggy's POV. Which is way easier than Matt's POV...let me tell you. I can't use anything visual with Matt so it's a lot of his internal dialogue. But I think Foggy is really a 'in-the-moment' kind of guy. I also used from lines from the show for their little introduction...which I hate doing so it won't happen much. By the way, just in case all the vocab isn't sticking...Here's a brief summary of the things I've mentioned:
> 
> Witches - people with magic, claimed by a coven
> 
> Matchless -people with magic, unclaimed by a coven but are naturals at doing magic
> 
> Inklings -people with magic, unclaimed by a coven and are not naturals at doing magic (might not even know they have it)
> 
> Removed -witches who used to be part of a coven, but through some circumstance left or were kicked out
> 
> Regulars -people without magic


	3. Three men. One woman. No lights.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt has unhealthy coping mechanisms and a lot of anger issues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!! (Or Happy Holidays) I will start spreading out my chapters a bit more- I plan on posting about once a week.

Matt knew it was going to happen someday. 

It’s not like he’s the only Witch who decided to take a Regular job, he knew that. Especially as an attorney, it’s always useful for the New York coven to have strategically placed Witches in law firms. People sued all the time over logistics of witchcraft in the work place, and the rights of magical people. There were even a number if Witchcraft law firms he knew of upstate… It makes sense he would run into another Witch, he told himself. However, even with the full knowledge he knew it would happen- he didn’t want to meet a Witch. He wanted to avoid them.

So when Foggy convinced him to take witchcraft law with him in their second semester this went objectively _against_ his plan to avoid other Witches…but Foggy had begged him to join him, he insisted that they would work well together and that they already signed up for all the same classes. That it would be easier if they had the same schedules.

Maybe Matt just wanted to make Foggy happy. So he signed up for the class, fully aware that there would be magic people.

At the start he counted a total of three Matchless and one Witch. There were also some people he suspected to be Inklings, but that was no surprise- there were always people he suspected to be Inklings. Inklings were fairly common, he knew that, but hard to detect because their magic was so subtle. He had no concerns about them, or the Matchless. From the few Matchless he has met they tend to keep to themselves…and even if they feel him with their own magic they’ll probably avoid him because he’s a Witch. Matchless disliked Witches almost as much as Matt hated being one.

It’s the Witch he’s concerned about. A woman. A few heartbeats picked up around her when she walked into the classroom, so he assumed she was attractive- or had a demanding presence. She wore a strong perfume and Matt could smell the cosmetics on her face. Expensive, tinged with magic- a beauty spell? No, an organization spell. She applied the makeup with magic. He took a quick breath in when she wandered into his space and sat down directly to the left of him.

Foggy must have noticed his sudden tense form. “What’s up, Matt?” He said from the right of him.

Before he could respond the woman spoke up beside him. Her voice was clear, fairly nice and laced with curiosity. “Hello, boys. Are you friends? I see you around campus. Walking with each other.”

Foggy’s heartbeat picked up and his body heat rose. So he found her attractive. A lump formed in Matt’s throat, “Yeah, me and Matt are roommates. I’m Foggy,” Matt leaned back when he felt Foggy put his hand out in front of him. “Sorry, Matt. I’m holding my hand out to the nice lady next to you.”

“Foggy?” The woman shook Foggy’s hand, “What an odd name. I’m Marci. And I’m assuming you’re Matt?” She asked him.

Matt nodded, “Yes.”

“So what is a Witch doing in Columbia law school?”Matt could hear the heartbeats seated around them all rise at the same time. Marci spoke too loud, how quickly will this take to spread around school? He’s supposed to be keeping a low profile. Maybe he could place a small distraction spell at the end of class. Just to keep them disinterested. That’s not too ethically corrupt.

“I could ask you the same question,” He said curtly.

Foggy gasped. “You’re a-” he lowered his voice. “You’re a Witch, too?”

“Well, I’m not hiding it like your friend is,” She sounded slightly regretful and lowered her voice like Foggy’s. Then she waved her hand spoke under her breath (quiet enough for no one but Matt to hear) and placed a spell on the people around them. So she wasn’t totally disrespectful, and understood the consequences of being outed as a Witch. “Yes, I am. I come from a line of Witches upstate…My family isn’t fond of the fact I decided to attend a Regular’s school- but they don’t make the decisions for me. I do.” 

Foggy laughed his voice deepened, “That’s independent. I like it.” Foggy’s flirting now. In front of him. Matt cleared his throat.

Matt is saved from the rest of the conversation when the professor showed up and began class. Professor Johnson. Matt realized within a few minutes that the man was a Matchless. He wrote his name on the board in loopy letters and turned around to face the large lecture room. His voice was loud and he began his lecture with a brief history of witchcraft. He doesn’t mention he’s a Matchless, so Matt assumed that the man didn’t want to let it be known. It made sense. If schools didn’t trust Matt as a Witch in class- why would they trust a teacher?

Professor Johnson then started to call for volunteers. Matt noticed some people who put their hands up, their excitement evident. Professor Johnson ignored them and began to pace the floor. He hummed and spoke to himself silently, silent enough that Matt could hear- but probably nobody else. Something about whether or not he should call on the Witches.

“You!” Matt’s senses let him know Professor Johnson pointed in his general direction. He didn’t want to do this.

That’s when Foggy spoke up, “Me or him?”

“You. Come down here, let’s start with some oral arguments.”

Matt sighed with relief when Foggy happily trotted down to the front of the classroom. He let his anticipation actually began to build for Foggy…Matt wasn’t afraid for him at all, in fact he was sure that Foggy would wipe the floor with whatever oral argument topic he was given. Foggy had been reading up on witchcraft law since last semester, and Matt has already explained to him a few rules. Not only was Foggy adept at the subject, but his argumentative skills were off the charts.

Sure, Matt was smart. His arguments were flowery and he could come up with a nice speech, and a well placed argument easily…but not nearly as well as Foggy. Professor’s loved Matt because his arguments mimicked their’s, Matt’s arguments were lawyers arguments. But Foggy’s arguments were for the people, they appealed to everyone…And Foggy always sounded so damn sure of himself. Always sounded so passionate and believed every word he said, and lacked arrogance. But Matt didn’t, Matt had a hard time keeping his personal feelings out of it.

“Okay, son. Why don’t you stand by the podium. What’s your name?”

“Foggy Nelson.”

“Mr. Nelson- did you read the materials I posted before class?” Professor Johnson rose his voice. “The materials I posted on our class website three days ago, class! It gives you a general idea of witchcraft law and terms. That was your assignment for today! If you can’t keep up and follow directions then you have no place in my class- and frankly, I’d like you to leave!”

“I did read it Professor Johnson,” and Matt knew he did. They read it together in their room. He remembered Foggy explaining that he would ace the class.

( _“You’ve already explained all this shit to me, Matt! Look at the syllabus! It’s practically elementary school stuff.” “Foggy, you didn’t know any of this before I explained it to you. It’s pretty much all new to anyone but a Witch.”_ )

“Well, Mr. Nelson. I want you to construct an argument for why it should be illegal for Regulars to summon Witches. You’ll have ten minutes.”

“Actually, professor. I think I’m prepared for the argument now.”

The professor didn’t argue, but Matt knew he was surprised. Foggy started his argument with a few examples. It wasn’t to overwhelming, just enough for Foggy to pull in the class who didn’t know what a Regular was or the terms Witches had. Then he began to eviscerate the idea of servitude- Foggy’s reasoning was impeccable, it laid out facts under the constitution and even made comparisons to magical law. By the end of the speech the class started to nod along, and Matt could hear several sounds of interest. Matt couldn’t help himself for practically beaming by the time Foggy finished. Foggy would make a remarkable attorney someday.

A warmth bloomed in his chest for how passionately Foggy fought for his rights.

He noticed Marci’s heart had begun to beat faster beside him. When Foggy came back up from the podium and passed by her she grabbed his wrist, “That was one hell of an argument, Foggy-bear,” She whispered. “Do you want to get acquainted with each other sometime?” Matt could hear the distinct sound of arousal in her voice.

“Uh…yeah,” Matt detected the warmth grow in Foggy’s cheeks as he blushed. The blooming in Matt’s chest was quickly replaced with tightness. He was happy for Foggy. He had to be happy for Foggy.

Matt knew he held a deep fondness for him. His voice was nice to listen to. He was always so warm and welcoming. Foggy also smelt nice, his presence was always welcome and Matt felt…Matt felt at _home_ with him. The shampoo he used was a sweet vanilla, it wasn’t overwhelming like so many other products…It was just enough, paired with Foggy’s own unique smell was like heaven. Foggy’s attitude was also typically non-judgmental, he saw the best in everyone, and didn’t treat Matt like he was afraid of him or he had to be tip-toed around…even thought Matt knew he got uncomfortable around magic.

He noticed Foggy’s heart rate picked up anytime he used his spells. Maybe he didn’t trust Matt. His heartbeat was crazy the first time they met- which was expected, Matt was the Witch who claimed his first-born child. That would make anyone terrified. At this point though, Matt accepted that Foggy liked him- as a friend, of course. He would be happy for Foggy if he found a woman to love, because Foggy was a friend. His best friend. His only friend.

Wasn’t he?

He doesn’t even know this Marci and he’s already imagined several scenarios in which her and Foggy live a happy life together. In fact, if Foggy had a child with her…they would be a Witch. The child would be magical. He could keep his first-born. It’s the perfect situation, but Matt couldn’t help the sinking feeling in his stomach.

* * *

After that class Marci and Foggy end up going on several dates together. Then more dates. And more. They also have a lot of sex. It’s not like Matt minds. Matt definitely _doesn’t_ mind he repeated to himself several times a day. They’re both consenting adults and it makes Foggy happy and twittery. He just hated coming back to the dorm and _smelling_ it all the damn time.

It was impossible to focus one damned second in that room with all those smells. He could just imagine Foggy moaning under Ma- Marci. He was thinking of Marci.

Matt doesn’t have any other friends at Columbia and he’s begun to regret the fact he hasn’t interacted with any other students. He knew that Foggy made an effort to interact with a lot of other people. Foggy practically knew everyone, in every one of their classes. He made the classes collaborate with their notes and people _like_ Foggy. Matt can’t imagine why people _wouldn’t_ like Foggy…but to everybody Matt was just the awkward blind guy who wrecked the grade curve. It's not as if Matt was rude, in fact, he was rather charming- but he still didn't have the same extroverted qualities that Foggy possessed.

They walked to every class together and lived together so it’s not like they weren’t seeing each other. In fact, Foggy spent more time with Matt than he did anybody else…but Matt still couldn’t help but miss the company during the weekends. Or in between class and at the end of the day.

He needed something to take up his time. Anything at all, and when Foggy would stay at Marci’s for the night he would sit awake and hear all the sirens like he did when he was a kid. There weren’t as many as Hell’s Kitchen, but still a lot. A lot of people crying their bedrooms too. Sometimes he could hear somebody get drunk, and then leave their friends and the moment their doors closed- they broke down. There were also several parties he could hear every night, loud and rowdy. He would occasionally get invited to them by a lone girl, or guy.

Tonight was one of those nights.

Foggy was messing with his hair and his heart was pumping with excitement like it always did when he was about to spend the night with Marci. “So…It’s still a little early in the day,” Foggy twisted his arm in a motion that Matt assumed meant he was reading his watch. “I’m leaving soon…It’s only 5:30. Do you have any plans?”

“I was thinking of going to a party,” Matt said.

Foggy was surprised, “Really?”

“I was invited by Julia,” he had actually been asked by her brother Juan.

Foggy was suddenly still. “I thought you were invited by her brother?” Foggy said carefully.

Matt didn’t know Foggy even knew, “I…”

“If you’re experimenting with guys I don’t mind Matt,” Foggy’s heart was racing. “I’m actually bisexual.”

Matt had always assumed Foggy was bisexual, though he had never told him outright. For the first time they met Matt remembered Foggy had called him ‘really, really good-looking.’ Matt figured it’s not as if Foggy would have ever entertained the idea of being romantically involved with Matt, but he certainly knew that Foggy had an appreciation for the male form if the beads of sweat Foggy got on his palms whenever Matt had his shirt off were any indication.

Matt had also been attracted to men in the past- but he never considered a real relationship with any of them. He like Juan’s accent and the way he moved. He could entertain the idea of having a sexual encounter with him in his mind…but couldn’t see himself actually doing it. He’s gone off with a few men before, quick encounters, but nothing that actually left him knowing their names or any prospects of something further. The teachings of his church were so heavily engrained he still found himself internally shoving down any ‘homosexual tendencies’ as Nun’s so helpfully described it.

“I’m not,” Matt found himself saying. “I’m- I was invited by her brother. But I’m not- I’m not gay.” He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. It wasn’t the idea of being with another man really. It couldn't be, because he didn’t mind Foggy’s sexuality why would he mind his own? But it was something.

“I know you’re not Matt, you’ve hooked up with plenty of girls before for me to know that. If you wanna get with guys though… that is absolutely no problem with me.” Foggy’s heart let him know it was a lie.

“I’m just going to the party because I’m done with my midterms and I need a break. It doesn’t matter who invited me, Fog.” His voice came out a little harsher than he would have liked.

Foggy let up. “Okay, Matt. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Foggy checked his watch again and walked towards the door. “I’m heading out now,” He said before he left.

Really, Matt just wanted to drink and get lost in himself a little bit. That’s all. He didn’t bother to change his comfortable clothes and went to the party dressed down significantly compared to the other people there. It was loud, and smelt awful- which would usually annoy Matt to no end…but today was a little different, he needed this. 

Juan came up to him only a few seconds after he walked in. “Hey!! Matt, it’s me Juan,” The man grabbed his shoulder. “What’s up, hermano? I didn’t expect you to come, you’re always workin’ so hard in class and all,” he has a strong Puerto Rican accent. Matt noted it was usually subtler, he chocked it up to the alcohol.

“I’m just here to have a few drinks,” it’s honest. 

“What do you want, then! I have a friend who made some punch. We also got some vodka, whiskey, beers, tequila- practically a whole bar. I can whip up anything for you, hermoso.” His voice lowered several octaves and he got considerably closer to Matt’s space.

Matt isn’t drunk enough for this, yet.

“Do you think you have enough alcohol to make a few Long Island Iced Teas?”

Juan laughed, “You’re really looking to get drunk, aren’t you? You know I don’t fuck drunk guys, it’s not polite. It’s not a problem man, I figured you weren’t really into me anyway. I’ll go and get you your drink.”

Matt doesn’t bother to argue that if he had a few more drinks in him to the point where he couldn't remember Juan’s name. Just maybe, he would be willing to pull a few strings. “Thanks, Juan.”

After three Long Island Iced Teas he’s a little more than happily buzzed. It’s a few hours into the night and he’s managed to make a total of ten more friends. Well, depending on what the definition of ‘friend’ is. He's managed to make a total of ten people who treat him like a human being and have a good sense of humor. He’s also met plenty of other people, all of whom he avoided once they felt awkward over the fact that a blind man could indeed get drunk on his own. He did not have a handler- and _hell no_ , Foggy was definitely ** _not_** his handler.

He went to get himself another drink, he was positive if he had two more he’d be plastered enough to even dance…but then he heard it.

A woman crying. Just on the edge of the party, three men surrounded her. She was asking them to leave her alone. They weren’t leaving her alone. In fact, she was very drunk, and could barely hold herself up. Matt was frozen on the spot, he tilted his head to gather more information.They were dragging her up the steps of the house where the party was taking place. They had no intention of stopping.

Matt curled his fist around his cane in a tight grip. He quickly made his way to them, he pushed to through the crowd of people and when he made it to the steps by the time the group of men were already up. The men were speaking vulgar things under their breath as the woman cried for them to not hurt her and Matt just got angrier.

He folded his cane and gripped it in his hand before he made his way up the steps. 

Three men.

He went down the hallway to where he heard them speaking in a room. They hadn’t done anything to the woman yet, she was still crying. One smelt distinctly of Axe body spray, another of Marlboro cigarettes, and the last of Coors Lite. They threw her on a bed. There was slight electrical buzzing from what he gathered to be a lamp.

One woman.

Matt made his way to the room. He eased it slowly open, the three men hadn’t noticed him yet. He gripped his folded cane in his hand and focused on the buzzing of the lamp. The only artificial heat source. What he knew was the only light source. He was still buzzed, but the adrenaline kept him focused. He threw his folded cane in a sharp line to the lamp and heard it shatter. Axe was the first to curse, and Coors and Marlboro followed suit.

No lights.

In a flurry of movement he came into the room. His heart was beating out of his chest. He knocked Coors out with a single punch. The other two men had quickly gotten wind of the fact there was someone in the room, they clumsily tried to attack Matt in the darkness. Matt dodged them and grabbed Axe's arm. He snapped it, and smiled at the satisfying crack.

With only Marlboro left to go he managed to get in a slug at Matt’s face. That would leave a mark in the morning, but Matt didn’t care as he punched Marlboro in the neck and pinned him down. He beat him until he was unconscious, and maybe a bit more than necessary…but he was drunk and hurting and this man had tried to-

The woman was still crying. He stopped punching Marlboro and went to the side of the bed. She was inebriated, Matt knew that she wouldn’t be able to call anybody for help.

“I’ll call for help,” he whispered to her as he went over to where his cane fell and picked it up. It calmed her down enough so that she stopped crying. He knew the men wouldn’t stay down forever… So he whispered a trapping spell, one that would keep them tied until the cops came. “Coerceo vos.” ( _I restrain you_ )

He managed to make it downstairs with no problems. None of the party goers must have noticed the noise he made, the music must have been too loud. He walked outside of the house and called from a payphone to let them know some men had tried to assault a woman. They needed to come to the house right away.

He waited until the cops came and made sure they found the unconscious men and the woman before heading back to his dorm.

* * *

"Matt, what the hell happened to you?!" Foggy's voice awakened him from sleep in the early morning after.

"What?" He turned over in his bed and gripped his pillow. His head was aching. He drank too much.

Foggy suddenly gripped his shoulders and pulled him up, he touched Matt's face, the same spot where Matt knew he probably had a black eye. "What do you mean 'what', Murdock? Who the hell punched you? Did somebody- oh my God, Matt...Did Juan hurt you? Or somebody at the party?"

Matt shook his head, and regretted it immediately. He gripped his head with a hand and groaned, "No. I got mugged. Cops showed up over some disturbance at the party, and I left as everybody else was." Matt chuckled darkly, "Guess they thought picking on the blind guy in the chaos would work." Matt was guilty at how quickly the lie had come to him.

"Do you know who it was?" Foggy took Matt's hands and turned them over. "You obviously got some punches in." So Matt must have bruised knuckles, as well.

"I accidentally tripped them with my cane and then hit them with my fists, got lucky I guess. They didn't even have a chance to take my wallet before I left. And no, I don't know who it was Foggy. They didn't talk much," Matt took his hands away and rubbed at them. He needed some ice.

"You didn't call the cops?"

"No. It's not like they actually took anything."

"They assaulted you, Matt. They took advantage of a blind man."

 _More like I took the advantage of **being** blind, Foggy. You have no idea, _ Matt thought. "I can take care of myself, Foggy. How was your night with Marci?"

"Fine," Lie. "But who cares about that Matt, we need to put something cold on your eye."

"What happened with Marci?" Matt asked as Foggy got up to get a pack of peas from their mini-fridge.

"Matt, I said my night was fine," Foggy said testily. "You're just distracting from the fact that you got mugged and don't want to make a big deal about it."

"I am," Matt admitted. "But you're avoiding a subject too. Did you and Marci get into a fight?" Foggy came back with the peas and Matt put it on his bruised eye.

Foggy sat next to Matt on the bed and took a deep sigh. "Marci doesn't want any kids," there was movement around Foggy's hands that Matt assumed meant he was twiddling with his fingers.

"You've only been together for a couple of months," Matt comforted. "It makes sense she doesn't want to talk about children and a future."

Foggy shook his head. "No, it's not like that, Marci doesn't plan on having _any_ kids. _Ever_. And I kind of felt like that too for a while...but then I thought about how I owe my first-born and all. Then I met Marci and she's a Witch, and I know that if I have a child with her I'd get to keep it. The idea seemed nice and I started thinking about it more and more, and when I mentioned it to Marci she just," Foggy took a deep sigh. "She shut me down immediately. Said that her focusing on her career matters to much to her for her to take care of children, especially one she'd need to train."

Foggy had told Marci that he owed his first-born child to the New York coven. Though Foggy made it clear to Matt he hadn't explained that the Witch who sealed the deal was Matt. Marci still didn't know he was Hell's Kitchen's Claimed first-born and Matt wanted to try and keep it that way.

"Well you have plenty of time Foggy, you'll still figure something out."

Foggy nodded and kept twiddling his fingers.

Matt only flexed his hand, and thought back to how satisfying it felt to lose himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So let's just get this straight: I'm a horrible romance writer, and I try, boy do I try...but I'm not used to it and usually try and avoid it. (But Foggy and Matt are so perfect together) I apologize if it's not mushy enough for you...I manage to make everything dramatic- and my emotions are a little stunted and I think Matt's are, as well. So let's hope I'm fairly in character over the fact that he is becoming absolutely besotted...but doesn't even realize it.
> 
> Also- I do think that Matt enjoys hurting criminals...I really do. I think that he holds up so much pent up rage and frustration that taking it out in a physical way helps. Sure, it's massively unhealthy, but hey- at least he saved someone, right? That's what it's all for.
> 
> I'd imagine his guilt stems not from his actions, but from how much satisfaction he gains from them


	4. It Was On Sale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy goes above and beyond as the bestest friend anybody could ever have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slightly later than a week, but I've been getting a lot done with this fic.

Foggy was learning a lot about Matt. First of all, that Matt was possibly the most graceful person he has ever seen. Second of all, that despite this fact he refuses to acknowledge it. When Foggy thought back to the way Matt moved around a room he found himself wondering whether or not Matt had been taught a certain way to move.

Yes, he moved like a blind man. He always put his hands out to the sides of a door to measure it’s length as he walked through them, he dragged his hand along the bottom of a table to find a cup, he absently groped for chairs, and he used his cane and when it bumped against something he quickly readjusted in a trained instinct. It’s not as if a blind man couldn’t move gracefully, Foggy knew that- but there were little things he also noticed. Things that were so distinctly Matt.

Like that Matt always noticed when someone walked into a room despite them making little to no noise. Or how aware he seemed at all times…Or how specific and determined every one of his movements were- as if he had choreographed it a long time ago and was performing in a well practiced dance. One of Foggy’s particular observations were concerned with the way Matt prepared food.

For instance, at the moment Matt was carefully adding cut vegetables to a pan for them to roast for dinner. His hands worked quickly and efficiently in tight controlled movements. Matt had apparently earned hefty compensation for his work for the coven recently, and they put a lot of their money down to move into better student housing…one with an open floor plan (they still slept in the same room) but a fairly decent kitchen. They were done with their first year and both agreed that they needed a better place to stay for the summer, and thought staying together would be the best possible course of action.

Foggy had originally thought about moving in with Marci, but couldn’t bring himself to mention it to her or Matt. Instead, he decided he would wait until Marci asked him herself- then _maybe_ he’d break the news to Matt. Foggy’s relationship with Marci had been less intense now that he knew she wouldn’t have children. They both silently acknowledged that the official relationship wouldn’t last much longer and neither of them would commit to anything as far as marriage, but at the moment they went well together in spite of everything. The sex was great, at least.

Foggy went back to staring at Matt as he worked- Matt didn’t look down, but he tilted his head ever so slightly and ran his hand on the bottom of their counter to a salt shaker. He gripped it and lifted it up toward Foggy and asked whether he was holding salt. Foggy hummed a positive 'mhm' and Matt nodded. He poured some into his hand and flicked a minimal amount onto the pan with a quick turn of his wrist. Foggy knew Matt _hated_ over seasoned food- and took note to add some more salt and seasonings to his own dish when they ate.

“Hey, Matt,” Foggy said as he finally went back to his work chopping the chicken. It was Foggy who handled the sharp things. Despite the fact that Matt insisted he was perfectly capable, Foggy had a brief nightmare that Matt would cut off his finger or something. He was good at handling knives anyway, his mother _did_ want him to be a butcher. “Have you ever taken dance lessons? Or martial arts or something?”

Foggy noticed when Matt froze awkwardly over the pan and turned his head toward Foggy. “Not exactly,” Matt said slowly. “Why?”

Foggy didn’t know how to take that vague response. Matt was always good at those. “Well,” Foggy started. “You kind of move like a dancer, or a fighter? I don’t know… you’re just graceful? Sorry- that came out weird…You move like my sister does. _God_ that’s even worse.”

“Your… sister?” Matt had that smirk. The one that would probably make everybody else think he was an arrogant prick- but made Foggy melt.

“Oh shut up,” Foggy smiled. “My little sister Candace- she’s taken ballet lessons for years and she has a precise way about her, you know?” Foggy rubbed the back of his neck, “Like how only people who have been taught how to train their body have? You have that precise quality.” He waved his hand in an odd chopping movement as he spoke.

Matt nodded. “Well, my dad taught me a little bit about how to fight when I was younger,” he proceeded carefully. “And there was a lot of therapy after I lost my sight. They taught me how to move around a room, my cane, how to adjust myself in space and make a picture around me,” he got a far off look, furrowed his brow and then shook his head. “So I’m thinking about how I move all the time. What’s happening around me. I have to.”

Foggy hummed and spoke up again. “You sure you don’t dance, Murdock?” Foggy asked with a curious lilt to his voice.

Matt laughed. “Two left feet, Nelson. You don’t want to be apprised of my dancing skills,” He continued jokingly.

Foggy smiled and went back to helping prepare the food.

Things were good. After Matt came back with a black eye last semester Foggy had been a bit wary around him, even though he knew Matt hated being treated like an invalid- he couldn’t help but tip toe around the fact that Matt had apparently been assaulted. Even though based on the bruises Foggy saw around Matt’s knuckles he had dished them out a beating, as well. It just didn’t feel _normal_. Who gets into a fist fight with a blind man?

* * *

Then again, Matt wasn’t really normal. He was a Witch, and a pretty powerful one at that apparently. He found this out after having a brief conversation with Marci after he stayed over one day. It was supposed to be a simply dinner and movie, but Marci insisted on having multiple quickies and took a very long time getting ready. Their night went significantly longer then usual and he decided to stay the night. Foggy didn't mind, he thought it was endearing. Marci also had a habit of using a lot of magic, at first he thought that _she_ was the odd one.

“You’re really casual about your magic, you know?” He said as she did her makeup, made breakfast, and prepared her clothing for the day with magic. It was the early morning, he rubbed his eyes to try and make himself feel less sleepy. He stared at the way her dress floated out of the closet and landed softly on the bed.

“Well I have it,” Marci said looking into the mirror to check her progress. A makeup brush was lightly patting her face with a pretty pink tinge. “Why not use it? You act like you’re so surprised. You have a Witch as a roommate for God’s sake.”

“Matt hardly ever uses his magic,” Foggy explained. “Finally seeing all the things you can do with it- it just-” Foggy laughed. “It’s really, really cool. I didn’t know you could do so much with magic. Or that it was even _appropriate_ to use it in a casual setting. I just kind of assumed it was…I don’t know. Rude or something?”

Marci laughed, the high pitched whistly one she reserved for when somebody said something ridiculous. “Rude?” She said. “Absolutely not. All the Witches I know use their magic for everyday life. I don't even think they could get through one day without it.”

Foggy frowned and nodded. “Do you think it’s because Matt can’t use his magic that often? I’ve seen it drain him before,” Foggy thought back to the times Matt came back from his summonings looking like death. “Maybe he’s not as powerful as you are?” He said the last statement softly.

Foggy had learned quite a long time ago that magical people had varying degrees of power. His Witchcraft Law class had taught him that it was a highly controversial matter. This was in the segregation session of his Witchcraft Law class- the Witching community had split those of lesser power with those of higher power and it was still rare for a comparatively ‘weak’ Witch to rise in governmental power. Years of family lines had split the divide even wider over the last decade.

Marci shook her head. “I highly doubt that Foggy,” she said.

“Why?”

“Well, every Witch can detect general levels of power on first meeting, you know that. Your friend is one of the most powerful Witch’s I’ve _ever_ detected. Last person I met who had that much power was the head of the Pennsylvania coven. I’m surprised he’s in Regular’s law school, because with that amount of potential he could work his way up _quickly_ in the Witchcraft community,” she scoffed. “Wasted talent. That’s actually why I came up to you two that first day in class- I thought he was somebody important. Don’t let him know that, though,” she said while pointing a finger at Foggy. “I don’t want him thinking he’s any better than me. I work extremely hard for what I have.”

Foggy doubted Matt would think himself better than anybody, much less Marci, but he didn’t argue. “Is there any reason why he wouldn’t want to use magic?” His mind wandered to whether or not he just didn’t want to use magic around Foggy.

“That’s a question to ask your friend, Foggy. Not me.”

He had to admit she was right…even though he considered Matt his best friend he couldn’t bring himself to ask the guy a lot of questions about himself. They’d only known each other for a year and Foggy became all that Matt had. Which he was reminded of every holiday when he tried to invite Matt over to family gatherings because Matt had no where else to go. He still wanted to introduce his roommate to the Nelson clan- and he would insist next holiday no matter how much Matt refused.

Learning more about Matt was also a challenge because he’s a master of evasion. Every personal question about his past was avoided with a dodge, or a vague answer, even stupid puns that Matt liked. 

When he finally got the courage to ask Matt why he hardly uses his magic for everyday things like Marci, he does get a vague answer about the man who taught him how to work for the coven. A mentor with a weird name like, Twig, or whatever. Something about how ‘magic was sacred’, ’shouldn’t be used for frivolities’ and ‘comfort is a privilege undeserved’.

Foggy thought that sounded like a load of bullshit and the man must’ve been an asshole to talk like that to a little kid who just lost his dad. Matt just shrugged and hummed lightly when he said he shouldn’t listen to somebody who doesn’t want Matt to live happily.

* * *

After a series of conversations regarding why Matt always bought the cheapest thing on the menu, never bought new clothes, hardly used magic for himself, and refused to acknowledge he thought his detergent smelt horrible… Foggy essentially came to a realization:

Matt didn’t like himself enough to give into nice things.

It was as simple as that. Whether it was all that pent up Catholic guilt, or his fucked up mentor, or those damned nuns- Foggy couldn’t bring himself to care what made Matt how he was…He just wanted to change it.

Thus Foggy set himself on a mission to make Matt’s life as comfortable as possible.

First off, he replaced all the detergent in their humble abode with unscented organic fancy detergent.

Matt noticed after laundry day when took a deep breath of his t-shirt.

( _“Is this new soap?” “It was on sale.”)_

Foggy also took note of Matt’s nightmares. The man woke up screaming on more than one occasion throwing the sheets of his body, and he also cringed every time he wrapped himself in them. It took a while for Foggy to figure out how to make the situation better- but after a brief comment from Matt about ‘scratchy’ sheets Foggy went out and bought the silkiest shit possible.

Goddamn those things were heaven.

He replaced the sheets on both their beds.

( _“I hope you don’t mind the change Matt, it was on sale.”_ )

He didn’t really care how much it broke his wallet, because he could tell Matt slept sounder every night because of it- even if the nightmares didn’t go away…just seeing Matt wake up startled and then instead of throwing the sheets, sigh into the bed and wrap himself like a burrito. Well, Foggy would give anything to keep it that way.

It also became his personal journey to slowly replace all the artificial food in their apartment with fresh fruit, vegetables, handcrafted German beer and Trader Joe’s organic shit. Foggy actually recalled enjoying the homemade pastries a hell of a lot, and saw this as a gift to himself, as well.

( _“Did you taste this yet, Matt? Holy shit. It was on sale, too.”_ )

After Foggy showed up one day with new feather pillows, and soft clothes for both him and Matt- it seemed like his roommate couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore.

“Don’t tell me those were both ‘on sale’ too, Foggy. This is getting ridiculous,” he rubbed his hands over the cashmere sweater Foggy handed him. “These must have cost you a fortune! How did you even know my size?”

“If I took the liberty to rummage in your military grade organized drawers and find your size, well, then you have no right to complain,” Foggy said happily as he placed the pillows on both their beds.

“Foggy. Why-” Matt blinked rapidly and Foggy couldn’t exactly tell under the glasses, but he could detect a hint of moisture in the corners of Matt’s eyes. “First the detergent, then the sheets…and the _food_. Now this? These are all my- are you doing this for me, Foggy?” Matt’s voice cracked and Foggy went by his side in an instant.

“Buddy. Pal. I’m not just doing this for you, I’m doing this for both of us. We both deserve nice things don’t we? Even if you’re stubborn as hell and don’t like to get nice things for yourself.” Foggy placed a hand gently on Matt’s back.

Matt nodded and took a deep breath to steady himself. “You have to stop buying the detergent, and the food- and…look I’ll do some things okay? Don’t throw away your money because of me.”

“I’m not letting you violently crinkle your nose at me anymore, Murdock. That detergent is staying.”

"You don’t need to buy it, Foggy. I’ll just-” Matt dropped his head, “I’ll just use my magic.”

“Talk about not doing things. Matt, you hate using your magic, I’m not doing that to you.”

Matt frowned. “I don’t hate using my magic, Foggy. You wouldn’t be doing anything to me. I just thought my magic made you nervous.”

Foggy blinked. “Nervous? Matt, I’m always a slut for magic.” Foggy blushed violently when he realized what he just said and Matt laughed out loud. “That’s not what I meant, I just really love magic, okay? It never gets old.”

“My magic is pretty intense, Fog.”

“Yeah, cut the shit. I get it. You’re a crazy powerful Witch…you’re not gonna scare me Matt.”

Matt stopped palming in the cashmere sweater in his hands and tilted his head. “Why would you think I was a powerful?”

“Marci might've mentioned that’s why she came up to you the first day of Witchcraft Law,” Foggy said casually. “Seriously though, Matt. You don’t need to keep anything from me, or deprive yourself of nice things and let yourself suffer for the sake of some weird self-flagellation Catholic church mumbo-jumbo.”

“I don’t let myself suffer,” Matt argued, but the fight just wasn’t present in his voice.

“Says the man who wouldn’t tell me that my new cologne gave him horrible headaches.”

Matt shrugged and went back to palming the sweater, “Thank you, Foggy.”

“It’s just what friends are for, Matt.”

Things became exceedingly interesting after that. Matt just kind of opened up, completely, like some kind of magical blooming flower. His magic was palpable in the air when Foggy came to the apartment, and the dishes were done for them, as were the clothes and everything smelt wonderful- and things were always cozy and amazing.

Not only that, but Foggy’s food always seemed to taste exactly how he liked it and Matt looked healthier. He also knew that Matt started going to the gym, eating more and gaining his weight in muscle- and Foggy would feel self-consciousness if it weren’t for the fact that Matt was suddenly developing abs…and those arms were a gift to mankind.

Though it seemed like as things got better between him and Matt his relationship with Marci went in the opposite direction. They started to fight over the smallest things and begin to see each other less.

Foggy considered breaking up with her, finally, once and for all.

Then Matt meets this…this woman. They were at a fancy party Foggy’s friend managed to let them into because he was faculty. It was just as they began the new semester, and they both decided it would do them some good to have some time for fun before things got intense later in the year. It was a good time, Matt was going to get the alcohol, he was eating fancy caviar-but then Matt just left. He blew Foggy off and Foggy was thrown out of the venue lost and alone.

Later, Matt explained he met somebody named ‘Elektra’ (What kind of name was Elektra?) and left in an expensive car that wasn’t theirs. That wasn’t theirs! Foggy doesn’t hold back when he tells Matt that leaving him on his own was an asshole move.

Matt’s relationship with Elektra was a whirlwind. He was gone all the time, and when Foggy went to their shared apartment it was no longer warm and magical.

Foggy filled his time with Marci, despite the fact that they continued to fight- but because he wanted somebody to spend time with. Matt was never around, and when he was he acted different, riskier- and when he started to show up with bruises and an odd look in his eyes Foggy doesn’t ask anymore questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far in my notes this fanfic will end up being 23 chapters. Twenty-three chapters!! That would total to about 80,500 words, holy shit (my average chapter length is 3500 words). I also have a ton of other little side tidbits planned out (Matt meets the Avengers, The Defenders are formed etc. etc.) so when I'm done with this... You're looking at a series.
> 
> Would you like to check out some brief non-spoilery notes of mine? Check out the tumblr post I made about it:
> 
> http://moriarty-mastermind.tumblr.com/post/155041721260/check-out-my-notes-for-my-wip-daredevil-fanfic


	5. Chromosomes are Chromosomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A conversation with Marci goes unexpectedly, Matt nearly loses his temper, and has a brief conversation with a professor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the massive delay.

A day that started with Marci was always going to be an odd day.

Matt’s phone chirped. 

_“Marci. Marci. Marci. Marci._ ”

He woke up groggy, somebody had summoned him at 4am and he had decided to skip his earliest class because by the time he came back he was utterly exhausted, and needed a couple hours sleep. The request was a complete sex change, so it included a very complicated series of spells- the woman wanted working ovaries and even a set of eggs. It took time and care, he didn’t want to ruin it for her. He frowned for a moment, her price had been high. 

He absently groped for the phone and picked it up.

“Marci?” His voice was still croaky from sleep.

“ _Get up. You’re meeting me for some food at Cafe Amrita…I know you don’t have another class until 4pm so don’t even try to blow me off._ ”

Matt sat up and used his free hand to rub his useless eyes. “That’s a fifteen minute walk away, Marci. You couldn’t have chosen one of the many places that were closer? Why are you calling me so early, anyway?”

“ _Early?_ ” He could hear Marci scoff at the end of the line. “ _It’s after noon._ ”

Matt pinned the phone between his shoulder and his ear to keep his hands free. He gripped the watch he fell asleep in last night to feel for the time. 1:43. Damn, he slept through two classes. “Why do you want to meet me anyway?”

“ _A friend can’t meet a friend for a friendly in-person conversation? Witches need to stick together, remember that?_ ”

“We’re not really friends Marci,” Matt got off his bed and shrugged on a shirt. He yawned and gripped the phone with his hand again, “We have a mutual friend.”

“ _Same difference. Meet me in thirty, don’t be late._ ”

She hung up and Matt sighed. Marci was always hard to get a read on. Even worse over the phone. 

As he got ready to go and meet Marci, he thought about life. It had been surprisingly _good_ lately…After meeting Elektra he could actually feel the life spark back into his eyes. She was invigorating, a whirlwind of powerful energy and excitement. She was _amazing_.

Elektra was a Matchless, she wasn’t overly fond of the coven and uninterested in connections…but her magic was remarkable. They just clicked in that way, and her magic was just as strong as his. Not only that, but she _knew_ about him and his senses. It was total honesty- something he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

For the first time they met, he hadn’t even known she had magic. She had a very good shielding spell on herself, he barely noticed the subtle buzz that surrounded her. It was only the second time they met that he realized that odd buzzing wasn’t a coincidence, and he took her shields down forcibly. That resulted in a _very_ fun reaction and impressive sex.

He didn’t need to pretend around her, they sparred together, laughed together and thought about their future. Matt thought he might just begin to love her, but it hasn’t gone that far yet- and he didn’t know when he was going to truly cross that sacred line.

His thoughts wandered back to Marci as headed out the door and began the walk to Cafe Amrita. Her relationship with Foggy had been very rocky lately. Despite the fact that Matt hadn’t been hanging out with Foggy all that much after meeting Elektra, he still noticed that Foggy was fairly stressed. It may have been because of upcoming midterms…but Matt had a nagging suspicion the majority had to do with Marci.

The screaming matches were easy to hear even without super senses.

As he made his way down the sidewalk and swayed his cane side to side everybody around him gave him a wide berth. Which was helpful, considering that he was deep in thought, and wasn’t paying much attention.

Cafe Amrita had a very distinct smell though, and he had to admit that Marci always had good taste in food. Their coffee was smooth, and apparently ‘beautiful’ as Foggy had put it when they went there together. When asked how a cup of coffee could be beautiful, it was explained to him that different designs were often decorated on cappuccinos with the frothed milk…yet another thing he hadn’t ever known about due to his sight. It wasn’t as if his father was going around drinking fancy cappuccinos in his childhood.

He thought Foggy’s description made up for his loss, though.

_“It’s like a -hm…sorry Matt it’s hard to describe. It’s like a swirly mixture of light browns and white. The white froth in your cup is shaped like a heart, and mine is shaped like a leaf. What makes it particularly pretty is how smooth the colors fold into each other. Like they just work together…in some kind of coffee and milk froth harmony.”_

Matt always enjoyed Foggy’s descriptions of the world. The way he pictured things was poetic, and never failed to boost Matt’s mood. Even though they were still difficult for Matt to envision, with his super senses…Foggy just rounded out the world- he gave that extra bit of information that Matt needed to make a picture in his mind. 

He had found himself missing Foggy this past semester. They were taking the same classes, but at different times. While Matt was free, Foggy was often gone and vice versa. It wasn’t as if they didn’t see each other everyday, they did, but it was only for the brief moments before they headed to bed. Weekends were occupied by their significant others- which made Matt just a bit less guilty over the fact he had been spending his weekends with Elektra.

Elektra was demanding, but not entirely inconsiderate. The occasional weekend he sat down with Foggy and watched a movie…but most Sundays were spent at some extravagant restaurant or Saturday at a fancy opera house- in which Elektra always ended up with just a bit more jingling jewelry then she had originally. The illegal activities in which they partook didn’t necessarily bother Matt, it’s not as if they were hurting anyone, just “inconveniencing the entitled” as Elektra had so eloquently put it.

She had a habit of going slightly overboard, but that’s why Matt was there. He was her restraint and she was his audacity. It was a perfect balance, one that they both needed.

Soon enough Matt had made it to the cafe. He could tell by the wafting smell of Colombian coffee beans and fresh-baked bread. He turned to the front door and carefully let himself inside. It was bustling, but not overwhelming…he could hear the steady uptick of a heartbeat, one he assumed to be the hostess, based off the light perfume she seemed to be wearing.

“Excuse me?” He asked with his best smile. “Is there anyone there to help me find someone?”

The woman’s breath picked up and her clothes brushed by her skin as she took his arm without his permission. He hated when people did that, “Yes! Of course!” She said with a twittery voice, “Would you like a table? How many?”

Matt took his arm back and continued to smile, “I’m actually looking for someone named Marci? She’s supposed to be here.”

As soon as the words left his lips the familiar magical tinge of Marci appeared in front of him. “Matt. You’re late. Come join me, don’t worry sweetie he’s with me,” She said to the hostess, then held out her arm. “I’m offering my arm.” He gripped her arm and she led him off through the swarm of the cafe. “The chair is one foot in front of you slightly to the left.”

He sat down and opened his mouth to speak but she spoke first.

“Let’s get down to business. I’m breaking it off with Foggy, ” Matt closed his mouth, opened it again, then closed it. “Oh don’t act so surprised, this was a long time coming.”

“So why are you telling me?” He ventured carefully.

“Because _you_ are Foggy’s best friend- and he is going to be devastated. Midterms are coming up, I didn’t want to do this before them, but it’s become to much for me. I still care a lot for Foggy and I don’t want him to fail his classes or fall into some swirling depression.”

Marci paused and picked something up in front of her, “I’m starving, by the way. I’m ordering a cappuccino and garden panini. They don’t have braille menus, but…” A brief wave of magic bursted into Matt’s perception and she handed him something. “This’ll do.”

He took it into his hands and felt the bumps on laminated paper, menu items neatly listed. “Thanks,” He said.

“I would’ve told you to do it yourself, but we both know you’re a Claimed first-born and want to keep low.”

Matt tried not to let the surprise show on his face, “Why would you get that impression.”

“It’s pretty obvious, Matt. You disappear randomly in class, have no connections in the Witching community, and avoid mentioning your magic like it’s the plague. The only people who act like that are people who have a charge. Don’t worry, I’m not like my parents, I don’t care.” A waiter came by the table and lightly asked whether they’d be ready to take their orders. Marci ordered and so did Matt.

“When did you find out?”

“After some conversation with Foggy where he wondered why you barely used your magic,” she explained. “I also noticed you are distinctly lacking a Totem, that was really my main clue.”

Totems were like wands, they allowed Witches to execute their magic without the assistance of Latin phrases, and the more religiously inclined of Witches believed it allowed them a straight path to spiritual guidance. The majority of Witching community had them, and they’re often passed through families as heirlooms…pieces of jewelry were the most common. Wands were considered outdated and medieval. Matchless rarely had Totems, and since Matt wasn’t raised in a Witch’s family he was never given a Totem.

Marci’s was a bracelet. It made little to no noise on her wrist, and was made of some kind of expensive metal, it had a slightly thick coating on the outside that smelt faintly of old dye- so he imagined it was painted with some design, or unnatural color. Probably very old.

“Well, you’re not second in our class for nothing.” Matt knew it was a slight jab. He was _first_ in their class.

“Anyways,” Marci ignored the slight. “Since I am to break up with Foggy very soon, I would like for you to arrange to meet him a bit more. Maybe give a break on the honeymoon phase of your relationship with the Greek.”

“Foggy knows how to handle himself Marci,” if anything Matt admitted to himself he was the more dramatic one. Foggy had a way of compartmentalizing things, he didn’t let things get to him. 

Matt found this out after he became markedly aware of how many people liked to talk about Foggy behind his back- and Foggy knew about it. They were jealous and spiteful, and bothered Matt to no end… but Foggy took it in stride and never complained.

Matt fixed it though. After a short meeting in a hallway, an accidental trip with his cane, a pin of the wrist, and a few choice words- they had learned their lesson. Even apologized to Foggy, which he accepted with a confused visage, while Matt stood silently beside him…He most certainly did _not_ make a threatening face behind his glasses, and did _not_ curl his fist with the precise intention put it in their view.

It’s all semantics. 

“Might be so,” Marci answered. “But Foggy likes to bottle up his emotions, and then pushes them down even further with a bottle of scotch. He might look perfectly happy go lucky to you, but he won’t be.”

“Okay, I’ll watch out for him.” The smell of coffee suddenly overwhelmed him and a warm cup was placed into his hand. He gripped and smiled up at whoever handed it to him, “What’s the design?”

“A spider’s web,” the server easily answered.

He smiled down down at his cup and tried to envision it.

“Have you ever tried to use magic to fix it?” Marci asked suddenly.

Matt furrowed his brow, “Fix what?”

“Your eyesight.”

Matt frowned suddenly and took a careful sip of his cappuccino. Nobody had asked him that question before. “No,” He said simply.

“Why?” Marci was ripe with curiosity, but obviously careful- afraid to offend. It made sense, she didn’t like skirting around questions, but Marci was an inherently _good_ person. Matt made note that although Marci’s ambitions were shark-like, she was never one to stab anybody in the back- or hurt anybody she didn’t dislike.

“Because it makes me who I am,” He inhaled deeply and let the coffee overwhelm his senses…like a thick fog of scent. “I don’t even know if it would work, it could have consequences.” _I don’t even know if it would take my other senses away._

There was an awkward silence while Matt continued to sip at his coffee. Before Marci made a slight, nearly imperceptible gasp, “I nodded.”

Matt chuckled, “And if I weren’t blind, I’d miss out all those blessed silences when people nod and I don’t notice.”

“How would you _ever_ notice?” She asked.

“Intuition,” Matt let himself smile at his inside joke.

“Matt I have another question, and I’d really like you to answer honestly- I’ll know if you don’t.” Marci leaned in.

“What’s your question?” Matt asked curiously as he took another sip of his coffee.

“Since we both know you’re a Claimed first-born…and Foggy _owes_ his first-born. Working under the assumption that your charge is Hell’s Kitchen and Foggy is _from_ Hell’s Kitchen. Were you the Witch who did it?”

Matt hummed, and aimed his head toward Marci. “I am.”

“You could put in a claim, I’ve been reading, asking some questions,” she said carefully. “If you somehow had parental rights- as the one who made the contract, you’d have first dibs on his kid. You’re Foggy’s best friend, you could work something out.”

Matt scoffed, “Not in the million years would the coven let _me_ raise a first-born. I’d be doubling up on jobs, and you know how much the coven hates that kind of thing….I’d also need a genetic claim to the child- as a parent. We both know I’m not getting married to Foggy, and genetically it’s impossible.”

“Magic does some pretty remarkable things, Matt,” Marci continued. “Keep in mind that chromosomes are chromosomes, you both have your XY pairs….And don’t come crying to me when the church bells are ringing and you and Foggy can’t afford to pay for the wedding reception.”

“You’re ridiculous, Marci.” Matt shook off her words and didn’t let himself dwell.

“Am I?” Marci always had the last word.

Their lunch went on fairly silently after that. Matt didn’t order anything other then the cappuccino, so he ended up leaving Marci to her own devices while she ate the rest of her panini. He left his money on the table and gave a brief goodbye before heading to his class.

He felt odd after the conversation with Marci, he could hardly concentrate on his class, and instead found himself zoning out. Had he been ignoring Foggy? He didn’t think he was, it’s perfectly normal to spend a lot of time with a new girlfriend. He _lives_ with Foggy, how could he possibly ignore him?

The thoughts about Foggy’s first-born and possible solutions took a small piece of his brain. It was eating at him as well, but he didn’t want to let himself think about it more than was strictly necessary.

His classes were boring. The only one that barely caught his attention was Intermediate Witchcraft Law, he and Foggy both took it…But Foggy had his in the morning, and Matt took it later in the day. They did a good job studying together.

At the moment, he sat in class and listened as Professor Johnson got to Module 13.

“First-borns! How much do you know about them?” Johnson asked the class in a loud voice and there was a smile in his tone. “Come on! Somebody must know _something_ about them. This is one reason why people are so frightened of Magical folk. Why we burned Witches, why there’s the constant fear they’ll steal our children.”

A tentative female voice came from behind Matt. “Well, uh. First-borns, in terms of Witching Law, are the children who were taken because their parent decided to make a deal with a Witch.”

“Ah, yes,” Johnson sounded pleased. “You’re absolutely right, Ms. Smith. Do you know what first-borns do?”

Smith continued. “They usually work for the coven in some way or another. I knew a kid who just helped file papers. They actually live alone now, and know their parents, they were just raised by a Witch. The Witch taught them how to work.”

“Do you think this is right, Smith?” Johnson continued.

“I don’t. I don’t think that anybody should be forced to do a job.”

“Do you think the Witch who made the deal with the first-born’s parents…Do you think they’re a bad person?” _Loaded question._ Matt’s mind provided helpfully.

“I think it’s horrific. They _must_ be at least slightly morally compromised… Why would anybody want to even do that kind of work? Take somebody’s kid away from them? It’s wrong.”

Matt frowned, very viciously, and his face came together in a scowl. He didn’t ask for this. He didn’t ask for this at all- she’s so ignorant- so _wrong_. Yes, Johnson’s question had been meant to lead her in this direction…but he hadn’t expected her to condemn him. Don’t people know what Claimed first-borns are? He didn’t ask for his charge, they forced him to the do the wor-

“Murdock? Have something to say? Seems like something is bothering you,” There was still a smile in Johnson’s voice.

He was startled out of his inner-turmoil and took a breath. “Yes, actually,” he began slowly. “Smith is very wrong, I think the fact summonings happen in the first place is wrong in itself. If a Regular decides to summon a Witch and it has a consequence, _they_ made that choice, not the Witch.”

“Wait, Murdock- slow down,” Smith spoke again. “Why would somebody make the choice to even do the summonings? Somebody has to come, right? That’s not a Regular’s choice, that’s a Witch’s choice.”

“That’s not a Witch’s choice,” Matt fought to keep his voice down. “Do you know what happens to magical first-borns?” Matt tried to turn around and pick out the girl from the crowd of people- but he couldn’t. So he settled for turning his face in her general direction.

“First-borns can’t be magical, they’re from Regulars- only Regulars do summonings.” Smith argued.

“That’s not true,” Matt said clearly. Johnson hadn’t interrupted, and just stood silently while they had the conversation. “Just because a Regular summons a Witch, that doesn’t mean they can’t have children with a magical person. Whether that be an Inkling, Matchless, or even another Witch. Do you know what happens when they have a magical child?”

Smith was silent, before speaking again. “No, I don’t.”

“That child is taken from their parent and becomes a Witch. They’re trained by another Witch sent by the coven, and then given a charge. They’re the ones who do the summonings. They’re the ones who doll out the consequences. They’re the ones who were stripped from their family and given a job they can’t help.” Matt took a breath and continued on. “In fact it’s a bit ironic, the Claimed first-born them self is the one forced to do a job that put them there in the first place.”

“That’s exactly right, Murdock,” Johnson said. “Do you have a counterargument Smith?”

Smith hummed vaguely and then spoke, “I hadn’t know that…but with the new information, I think that I’m inclined to agree with Murdock. It’s unfair for anyone to be forced to do a job- and that includes the first-borns who are apparently force to do their’s.”

“Does anyone disagree?” Johnson said to the class, his voice rising once again. “It’s alright, everybody. You can disagree- everybody has their own opinions, I want to hear them.” 

Matt could hear a few heartbeats slightly rise, but nobody raised their hand or spoke out loud.

“Well,” Johnson continued. “That’s alright. Now lets get further into the concepts of magical law in terms of Claimed first-borns, shall we? Magical first-borns are taught by a Witch just like any other first-born, but instead given the specific job of doing summonings…”

Matt began to zone out of the lecture, again. He knew he had an advantage in this module. There was no need to listen to the information he already knew. Though it was always odd hearing people speak about these kind of subjects as if he didn’t exist. To have an intellectual conversation about the morality of his own _life_ was a bit irritating. 

He wasn’t a part of Regular’s lives and he wasn’t a part of the Witch’s either. He was thrown between both worlds and disliked by both. He always most closely aligned with the Matchless, but as a member of a coven was still shunned by them, as well.

It still hurt to not feel a part of anything, but he had lived years this way…and yet there was no such thing as getting ‘used’ it. 

Class ended and he gathered his things and got up to leave before Professor Johnson’s voice interrupted his inner-thoughts.

“Matt? Can I talk to you for a second?” The use of his first name was curious. Johnson had walked up to him, Matt’s things were still gathered at the desk there was a tape recorder and Matt was halfway through putting away his braille note taker.

“Yes, Professor Johnson?”

“Oh, just call me William…Or just Johnson if it makes you uncomfortable. It’s not class hours anymore and constantly being called by professor makes me feel old.” Johnson laughed.

“Okay…William.” The name felt off in his mouth. It felt disrespectful, as always, to call someone much his senior and a _professor_ , no less, by their first name. 

“You did well in class today, you have a lot of knowledge on the subject. Which is expected, considering you’re a Witch.”

Matt nodded, of course Johnson could tell. He was a Matchless, and like most Matchless he had a sense of when somebody was magical, “Yeah. It’s a Regular’s school though, it makes perfect sense to teach as if you’re teaching Regulars.”

“Matt, you missed an assignment that was in class last week. I just wanted to let you know- you leave class occasionally, I think that was what happened last week. It’s not a significant percentage of your grade, but if you have a legitimate excuse I’d be happy to let you make it up.”

Matt remembered. As always, somebody had summoned him in the middle of a lecture. He didn’t know that there was an in-class assignment. “I would like to make it up,” he hadn’t told Johnson about his status as a Claimed first-born. He didn’t feel the need to. “It was a work issue.”

“Matt I know this is a personal question…” Johnson ventured. “But are you a Claimed first-born? That would be a reasonable excuse, after your passion in class today, I just assumed.”

Matt couldn’t help his sigh. This day had just been full of questions hadn’t it? Constantly reminding him of his lesser-than status. First the conversation with Marci, then the debate with Smith, now Johnson was interrogating him. “Yes, I am.”

“That would be a reasonable excuse,” Johnson explained. “Just take the coven’s log and hand it over to me next time you have a situation like that. I’ll take it on trust that you had a summoning last class. You can trust that I’ll keep this to myself, Matt.”

“Thanks, Professor Johnson.”

“William.”

“William.” Matt nodded and finished putting his things away.

He was looking forward to go back to his dorm and listen to an audio book.


	6. Twine That Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foggy is better at breakups than Matt is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s just pretend I died for the months I didn’t update this…but was brought to life by a corporeal being that summoned me to write fanfiction for the masses.

Midterms. 

Midterms were the bane of Foggy’s existence _._

Sure, they weren’t finals…Most definitely not as hard, but just as important. Not only that, but this was the last semester of second year. All of his prerequisites had been finished, all of the easy classes were gone- it was straight up _hard work_ at this point. Not only was there a shit ton of memorization involved in law, but a lot of improvisation practice. Foggy was wonderful at improvisation, but the memorization part was the thing he just hadn’t got down yet. Which was a shame.

And thus, he researched. Researched the hell out of everything, studied his ass off and hoped to _God_ he would have the self-confidence to not freak out during testing. He had three written exams, one presentation, and four oral arguments. He wasn’t entirely worried about the oral arguments, those were his strong-suits. But _written exams_. **_Written exams_**. He  **_hated_ ** them.

He took a deep breath and buried his head in his hefty law book. If he had to read one more paragraph about Goddamned evidence law he was going to chew his arm off. Hearsay, authentication, relevance, privilege, opinions, expert testimony, blah blah blah. Why did he want to be a lawyer again?

_Oh yeah, money._ He thought to himself, his stomach growled. _Money to buy food._ He frowned, he couldn’t afford to buy himself a bottle of water, much less a full meal at this point. He had a review session in an hour, he should probable eat.

And then, as if sent from God, Marci sat down next to him and handed him a sandwich. It was wrapped in brown paper, and tied with a twine bow. Which meant it came from Cafe Amrita, which meant that it was _delicious_.

“I doubt you’ve eaten today,” Marci said as he took it in his hands. “It’s Italian meat deluxe with extra pickles.”

“Marci, love of my life, thank you,” he carefully unwrapped the paper and smiled at the sight before him. “I’m starving,” he said as he pushed aside the book in front of him and took a bite of the sandwich.

“As you know, Foggy. I’m not one to skirt around things,” she said as he ate. “Consider the sandwich a peace offering. I’m breaking up with you.”

He was halfway through a bite. A pickle hanged from his mouth and he swallowed, before frowning. The sandwich suddenly didn’t taste so good. In fact, he felt like he was going to be sick.

“What?” He saw this coming. Of course, he saw this coming from a mile away. He knew it was going to happen- he was considering breaking up with Marci. He had even practiced it in the mirror before he decided to wait. He saw this coming. So why did it feel like his heart had suddenly dropped out of his chest? Why was it so tight, and _painful_?

“Foggy, I want this to be on good terms. I don’t want to be one of those people who break up, and then never talk to each other again. I can’t talk to you for a while- I need some time to rest…but romantically? We’re over.” Marci gripped her bracelet with her hand, it was a nervous fidget he had noticed she did when she was anxious.

“Oh,” he set down his sandwich and shook his head. “Yeah, yeah. I mean, we’re obviously not working out…We haven’t been for a while, I understand. It’s,” he took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to cry, for God’s sake. He _wasn’t_ going to cry. He was an adult. He couldn’t cry like a child whenever things went wrong. “It’s fine, Marci.”

“Good, Foggy. Enjoy the sandwich,” she stood up. “Good luck on your midterms.”

“You too,” he said as she walked away. He picked up his sandwich again and frowned at it. He wasn’t going to enjoy this kind of sandwich for a while. Which was a shame, because he loved it.

He got up, walked to the nearest trashcan, and threw the sandwich away. When he made it back to the library table he closed his book, gathered his things, and began to head back to his dorm.

He wasn’t going to go to his review session. He just wanted to take a nap, maybe have a few drinks. Maybe he could invite Matt- No. No, Matt was probably out with Elektra today. He shouldn’t bother him just because Marci broke up with him. Then again, Elektra wasn’t a good influence on Matt, maybe he should pull him away from her-

No. No, no, no, no. Just because _he_ felt horrible, doesn’t mean he should ruin Matt’s relationship. That’s a shitty thing to do- and Matt is a million times more emotional than him. Imagine when Matt and Elektra break up? Not pretty. He doesn’t want to be the one who causes that.

Wait, since when did he start thinking of Matt and Elektra’s relationship in terms of ‘when they break up’ not ‘if they break up.’ He frowned to himself, and shook his head- the emotions from what just happened over the last few minutes catching up to him.

He’ll be fine. He’ll deal. He’ll be fine.

He continued repeating the mantra in his head over and over again- his satchel cradled against his chest as he made his way back to his student housing. He opened the door and threw his bag against the wall before walking over to his bed and collapsing. He buried his head into his silky sheets and sprawled.

He’ll be fine. He’ll deal. He’ll be fine.

“Foggy?”

“Oh hey, Matt,” he said into the sheets. “I didn’t even notice you were there.” 

Foggy didn’t bother to turn his face toward Matt. He could already feel tears staining his cheeks…even though he knew Matt couldn’t see it- it still felt odd to reveal his face. He felt like a teenager again, crying over some girl…Like when Debbie Harris broke up with him in High School.

Matt walked up to his bed and sat by Foggy, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“You know what.”

Foggy sighed, “No, I don’t want to talk about it.” He grabbed his pillow and tightly held it to his chest. “How do you even know, anyway.”

“I just do,” Matt said in what Foggy knew was an obvious lie. Marci probably warned him beforehand, she was just the kind of person to do that.

“Did Marci ambush you.”

“Sort of.”

“Hm,” Foggy gripped his pillow tighter. “Do you want to go out for drinks? It’s a Saturday. I know you can.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Matt asked softly. “You know that you can drink too much when you’re upset.”

“Then you can be the half-way sober friend, Matt. Watch me. Make sure I don’t get alcohol poisoning,” Foggy turned over and sat up next to Matt. “We’ll have fun, maybe I can even convince you to dance. How about that? We can go clubbing, Matt.”

Matt laughed, “Foggy what did I say about dancing? Two left feet, Fogs. Two left feet.”

“Come on!” Foggy whined, not smiling yet, but feeling a bit better. He hadn’t had a genuine conversation with Matt in forever. It was always about classes, or something stupid like the weather. “It’ll cheer me up, Matt. Seeing you dance! I’ve never seen you dance before.”

“Foggy, I’m not sure how well things will go over if we go to a club.”

“It’ll be fun, Matt. Come _on_.”

“No.”

“ _Matt_.”

“ _No_.”

“ ** _Matt_**.”

* * *

Long story short, this club was fucking insane.

Foggy was on his, fourth? No, fifth drink. He was grinning like a mad man and staring directly into Matt’s eyes. Lights were flashing all around them and there was booming music in the background. Several hoards of people were on the dance floor, dancing to [whatever the hell kind of music _that_ was](https://youtu.be/kdemFfbS5H0). It just started, and some girl was talking over dance music, wait no, she was a part of the song. Techno? Pop? It sounded super familiar. Fuck. He didn’t care.

Matt’s eyes were _beautiful_. Like fucking, like, like um-

“Like marshy pools, dude. Just…gor- gorshu- _gorgeous,_ ” Foggy hiccuped and giggled. “ ** _Buddy_** … Why do you cover those bad boys up with glasses all the time? You should always keep them off. Keep ‘em off, Matt.” Matt’s eyes were hazel, with specks of green and in this lighting looked fairly dark- brown at first glance. “P-People might just be like, hey, they might just say your eyes are brown right? But they’re not just brown man! They’re this…really pretty hazel.”

Matt seemed slightly tipsy, judging by the tinge of red in his cheeks- but he was only on his second drink. He was nursing his whiskey and shook his head. “You’re really drunk, Foggy. Give me back my glasses.” He held out his hand and then Foggy frowned at Matt’s palm.

Foggy gripped the glasses in his hand. Oh yeah, he just took them off without permission. That was probably a shitty thing to do. “Sorry, buddy,” he said as he handed back the glasses. Then a thought hit him, “Hey Matt! Do you know what color eyes I have?”

Matt quickly put his glasses back and sighed, “No.”

“Well, first of all, I’m Latino.” Foggy pointed at Matt’s face.

Matt frowned for the briefest of moments before he let out a startled laugh. “No, no you’re not, Foggy. Don’t say that to a blind man. You’re very white.”

“How would you know, Matt?” Foggy persisted, “I c-could have brightly colored purple hair and green skin. There’s…there’s not a limit to what you may not know about me.”

“You’re white, Foggy. You watch reruns of Full House and complicate Starbucks orders,” Matt rubbed at his temples while smiling.

Foggy put up his hands in defeat. “Fine, Mister-Detective-Murdock-Future-Esquire. At least _I_ don’t have a hissy fit every time my food isn’t organic.” 

In Foggy’s mind that came out very smooth, in real life however, it came out more like: ‘Misser-Deteckiv-Murock-Footer-Eskire’, and then a series of mumbles.

“I’m white, I have blue eyes, kinda green, but mostly blue…Like a teal. I have blonde hair- but that dull blonde. A dirty blonde. It’s…sandy?”

Matt shook his head. “Foggy you can describe yourself later, when you’re not drunk.” Matt stood up, “Can we go now?”

“We’ve only been here for like an hour!! I haven’t even danced yet. Dance with me, Matt.” Foggy stood up quickly from the bar stool and then nearly tripped over himself. Matt held out his arm to catch him and Foggy would probably be suspicious of the action if he weren’t drunk off his ass. “Woah, good catch.”

Matt sighed again, “I don’t even know if you’ll remember this the next morning, Foggy. What’s the point of me dancing if you can’t even remember the next day?”

“Fuck your lawyer logic, _Matt_.” Foggy walked slowly out onto the dance floor and Matt gripped his arm and followed him out. “What kind of music is this?”

“EDM.” Matt said, letting Foggy lead him into the middle of the hoard. If Foggy weren’t so drunk, he might notice that Matt’s face looked uncomfortable and he was flinching at the music.

“Eedeeyim? Is it foreign or something?” Foggy turned toward Matt and gripped both his shoulders and began swaying him in odd directions in the hoard of people, horribly out of tune with the music. “Sounds weird.”

“EDM, Foggy,” Matt broke a smile and chuckled. “Electronic dance music. I don’t know what the song is called though.” Matt just let Foggy sway him in whatever directions.

“It’s a really weird song…You see, you’re a good dancer Matt.” Foggy said admiring his work at leading Matt. “Look at that. We’re so in sync with the music!” Foggy raised his voice louder over the sound, which had just reached some sort of climax as everyone began bouncing around them and cheered. Matt laughed and Foggy could feel him loosen in his arms.

Things seemed good for half a moment before a piercing sound erupted over the music and everyone started scrambling around them. The fire alarm had went off, Foggy brought his hand to his ear over the loud noise and frowned. Somebody must have set it off with a cigarette, or some equally stupid reason.

Then he looked back up at Matt who had taken both hands and was covering his ears like his life depended on it. Foggy could see Matt’s eyes darting around behind his glasses and he was crouched over with pain. He immediately took Matt’s arm and held him close.

“We need to get out of here, man. Are you okay?” Foggy wasn’t slurring anymore, but he did find himself struggling to understand himself over the music and the loud ringing. “Matt? Can you hear me?”

Matt was frowning and his face was scrunched up. Foggy only gripped him tighter and they made their way slowly out of the club. The mass of people were at the door, covering the entrance. Foggy only pushed his way out and finally they were out of the club.

The ringing was still loud, but not nearly as piercing. Matt had attached to Foggy like a suction cup, his left arm was firmly gripped around Foggy’s midsection and his right hand had come up to squeeze Foggy’s left shoulder. Foggy made his way further away from the club and tried talking to Matt again.

“Hey, Matt. You hear me? You okay?” Matt flinched, turned his head toward Foggy and nodded.

“Y-yeah,” he said in barely a whisper. “Can you just speak… quietly?”

Foggy nodded and spoke very softly. “You’re really that sensitive?” Matt still flinched which made Foggy speak even quieter, “Do you want to make our way back home?”

“Yes.”

Foggy acknowledged with barely a hum and Matt closed his eyes in quick successions. Foggy’s buzz had all but fizzed away, and left him with a headache and nausea. The journey to their apartment wasn’t all that long, but felt like it was forever away.

Just as Foggy went to open the door with his key he frowned and looked at Matt. “Hey Matt, where’s your cane?”

Matt tilted his head, in his classic Matt way, and spoke. “I left it at the bar before we went out to dance…You don't have to worry, I have a few spares in a box under my bed.”

Foggy smiled, of course Matt was prepared for anything. He continued to open the door and they both walked inside. Foggy lightly placed Matt on his bed, and sat next to him, “You sure you’ll be fine?”

Matt nodded, seemingly less sensitive to the noise, but still obviously in some sort of pain. “I’ll be good, Fog. I’ll take some aspirin, drink water… and get some well-deserved slee-” Matt very abruptly stopped, stood up and clenched his hands. “For _fuck’s_ **_sake_**!”

Foggy gaped and stood in front of Matt. “What’s wrong?!”

Matt sighed, took a deep breath and shook his head. “Somebody just summoned me, back in Hell’s Kitchen. I have to go.” He pressed his hands together, “Accipio.”

Just like that, Matt had disappeared from the spot he was before and Foggy jumped back. He would _never_ get used to that. A sudden wave of concern overtook him and Foggy walked back to his own bed and sat down.

The entire Witching system was completely, and utterly fucked. It was ridiculous, Matt was practically a slave to whoever had summoned him. Foggy cringed to think how it would be if more people summoned Witches. If more people didn’t care about the consequences? That would overwhelm Matt.

Foggy had plenty of good arguments, based upon the constitution, why it would be extremely illegal for Regulars to summon Witches. Why the entire community was constantly breaking people’s rights- but because of some stupid treaty a group of terrified Regulars signed over 200 years ago…The coven had free reign to determine the laws of their community completely as they deem fit. Even though their community was intricately woven within other countries. It wasn’t like they were a sovereign nation!

Though Foggy admitted it wasn’t entirely the coven’s fault, maybe not even mostly. It was also the kind of benefits Regulars got from the Witching community- without summonings, so many things couldn’t happen…And Foggy’s chest tightened to know that without a summoning, his mother would be dead.

His moment of clarity was then interrupted with his own headache- so he went to sleep and had dreams about Matt 

* * *

Several months later, past the summer, and Foggy was fully over Marci. In fact, they’d been hanging out and doing well, sure they didn’t talk to each other nearly as often as they had before…And Marci was off climbing the social ladder, but they didn’t dislike each other and that was a start. It was the first semester of their last year, people were scrambling to find internships and jobs. Both Matt and Foggy had applied to an internship at Landman and Zack - and were hoping to get their confirmations by the time they graduated.

It was already dark, Foggy was editing his resumé on his laptop and finishing a term paper. He was settled on the bed with his laptop in his lap, the screen illuminating his face. He was halfway through another paragraph when Matt showed up in their dorm, as in, just suddenly showed up out of nowhere- didn’t even walk through the door. Foggy startled and jumped up from his bed, his laptop bounced up and flopped on the floor. 

“Shit!” He looked at his laptop and quickly picked up, then set it down on his bedside table. “Shit, don’t scare me like that.” He looked at Matt who was now just standing silently in the darkness, his shoulders were slumped and he was clenching and unclenching his fists in steady movements.

Foggy blinked once or twice before walking over to the light and flicking it on. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust before he could fully take in the sight before him. Matt’s knuckles were heavily bruised, his glasses were on but Foggy could tell he’d been crying from the puffiness of his cheeks. 

“Buddy…” Foggy slowly walked toward Matt and took his hands. “What happened?”

“Me and Elektra are over,” Matt said quietly.

Foggy could feel his heart suddenly race. He took a glance at Matt’s knuckles again, he was in a fight- not even a fight, he beat someone. Did Matt beat Elektra? What the hell? They’re ‘over’? What did that mean? What was going on? Foggy quickly let go of Matt’s hands and stepped back, about to speak before Matt interrupted him.

“No- that’s not- we broke up. My hands are messed up because I went to the gym. I didn’t put on gloves, it was…” Matt turned away from Foggy and walked to his side of the room. “I just worked too hard on the bag after what happened. I wanted to get out some frustration.”

Foggy slowly calmed down. How could he ever think Matt would hurt someone like that? Matt couldn’t hurt a fly. “Oh, well buddy, I’m here for you. Do you want to talk about it?”

“I actually don’t,” Matt said, backed up, and then fell on his bed with way to much precision then Foggy would usually give him credit for. “I’m gonna take a break for a while.”

“What?” Foggy furrowed his brow. “What kind of break?”

“From everything.”

Foggy shook his head, “Matt you can’t just take a break ‘from everything’. It’s our last, and most important year of law school. You’re going to be graduating Summa Cum Laude…if you take a break now, well your grades will fall for one. For second, you'll hate yourself.”

Matt took of his glasses while he still laid on the bed an rubbed his eyes, “Why does that matter?”

“Why doe-” Foggy took a steadying breath. “Says the man who studies his ass off and refuses to go out with me because he’s in the library. Why does it matter? It matters because it matters to _you_. You’ll move past this, Matt.”

“Fuck the grades, Foggy,” Matt let out a resigned groan and carefully clenched and unclenched his fists in steady movements. “And hating myself? Well, I've hated myself for most my life. That's not going to change.”

Foggy knew Matt didn't exactly like himself, but hate? He decided not to comment on it, instead he sat down next to Matt on the bed and observed at the tension painted in his friend's shoulders.

He knew this would happen sometime, Matt becoming depressed over a breakup with Elektra. As much as Matt tried to act like he was the more stable of the two, his entire persona was emotionally compromised. It didn’t help that Matt was quite simply _alone._ Yes, he had Foggy for a friend- but now that Elektra was gone? That’s all he has.

Foggy carefully put out his hand and brought it up to Matt’s hair, Matt tensed for a moment, and Foggy froze. When Matt relaxed, and there was no sign of protest, Foggy ran his fingers through Matt’s hair slowly. His hands were steady and with every touch Matt’s muscles unknotted.

“Go ahead and sleep Matt, get some rest and we'll talk more in the morning," the _when you're more like yourself_ went unspoken.


	7. I Had An Inkling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt meets Foggy's family. Some things are revealed, but maybe not the obvious ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter wasn't as long as I'd like, but I'm hoping to get up to about 6k for the next one. Hope you like it!

They graduated. He should be happy, he was happy. Matt was finally an attorney, it was the summer…Foggy had insisted on Matt meeting his family and staying with them as they both tried to find apartment’s of their own. They were accepted for the Landman and Zack internship that would start in a few months, they could learn to support themselves and finally move out into their own way.

They were _attorneys_.

And yet? Matt couldn’t bring himself to really care. The noises at night were getting worse, the sounds of the public screaming, crying for help and the sheer…Matt took a deep settling breath as he packed away his shirts. The helplessness he felt every time he didn’t go out there to save them.

His thoughts also wandered to him and Foggy, they were searching for their own apartments now. Individual apartments. Matt hadn’t lived alone since, well he hadn’t much lived alone _ever_. Throughout High School he lived in St. Agnes, in undergrad he was in a shared living space with three other people (who he barely interacted with, but still), and now he’s been living the past few years with Foggy. 

The thought suddenly occurs to him he might be alone again soon, if Foggy gets promoted at L and Z, or decides to go off into other paths. It’s most likely they’d have separate offices at some point, and Nelson and Murdock…Well Nelson and Murdock was something they talked about only once while drunk so it didn’t have much of a foreseeable future.

“Matt, buddy, if you don’t stop gripping your clothes like that you’re gonna look like a discarded candy wrapper every time you go out in public with those wrinkled shirts,” Foggy set down something heavy and large. A suitcase, full of clothes. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Foggy,” Matt continued to fold and arrange carefully. He was aware based on his labels what color shirts they were, style, etc. He had to arrange them in a certain order or he’d end up dressing in some ‘color clashing monstrosity’ according to Foggy. This result had happened when they packed up for a hotel one night (student law conference) and apparently he’d paired military green shorts with a pink dress shirt (which he didn’t even know he owned, he suspected that something red got stuck in his whites and was now eternally suspicious.) 

“There’s something wrong…” Foggy stepped towards him. “Look, I get it, you basically ran off directly after our graduation in an effort to avoid my family. You don’t have to be nervous, Matt. They’ll love you, and they’re really excited to meet you.”

Matt hadn’t really been thinking about that, but now that he let himself rest on the subject, yes he was terrified of meeting Foggy’s family. His magic wasn’t exactly subtle in his current state. He was down, angry, and that had a direct impact on his surroundings. Milk had been spoiling, paint peeling, wood cracking- and while it might not be noticeable it the moment people meet him, he knew the longer he spent at the Nelson home the more suspicious things would become.

“Foggy, you know as well as I do that it’s going to be difficult for me to hide the fact I’m a Witch from your family.”

There was a pause, Matt imagined Foggy was frowning, “I was, kind of under the impression we wouldn’t have to hide that?” His voice went up a pitch.

“What?”

“You kind of missed it, but, well, when you left after graduation my parents were pretty insistent on getting me to admit why you were avoiding them. I may have mentioned you’re part of a coven.”

“You,” Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe you told them.”

“They were totally okay with it, Matt!” Foggy explain quickly. “Really, they were super fine, it took a little explaining for me to brush off the fact I didn’t mention it before, but well they didn’t hold that against you- just me.”

“Did you tell them…” Matt ventured.

“No I didn’t mentioned the Claimed first-born thing yet,” Foggy explained. “That’s something I completely understand wanting to hide, and I’ll rely on your decision, but I _would_ prefer telling them about that sooner than later.”

_Well,_ ** _I_** _would prefer you stick to your fucking boundaries._ Matt’s thought hissed. The intrusive statement surprised even him. He’d been having a lot more of them lately, but has always managed to keep it inside. He took a long, deep, steadying breath, “Just keep in mind, that everything about me…my childhood, my status,  everything . I consider it my own prerogative.” 

“Sorry,” Foggy’s breathing was sad now. _Can’t I do anything right anymore?_ Matt thought. “Sorry, I’ll try to, I’ll ask about things next time.”

“Why does letting them know _matter_ , anyway?” To his own ears even Matt could hear the harshness his tone, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

“Because they’re my parents! And we’re best friends! I’ve already told them so much about you, they practically think you’re the second-coming of the messiah. They’re probably gonna find out about it at some point, anyway.”

Matt had plenty of secrets, and those secrets kept him sane. His status as a witch, as a Claimed first-born, his super-senses and martial arts skills. All that kept him balanced was the knowledge he had these things for himself, that nobody fully knew him.

The moments he let people in completely, like Elektra, were moments that only served to hurt him.

His secrets kept him sane…But Foggy kept him human.

“I’ll consider it,” Matt conceded.

* * *

 

Matt was just a bit confused when they made it to the Nelson family home. First of all, it was in upstate New York. The Catskills. He’d never been upstate before…In fact, he’d never even been out of Manhattan.

“So your family moved?” Matt asked as they left the bus station. They were adjusting their luggage, only two suitcases between them. He barely paid attention to the long ride there, and just came to the (frankly late) realization that the home where he healed Foggy’s mom was in Hell’s Kitchen. He didn’t like the way things sounded up here, nothing bounced properly, there weren’t enough buildings to get him a clear picture. Everything smelt very…green. It was eerily quiet, save for some wildlife in the area and a neighboring town.

“Uh, well yeah,” Foggy said. “Sorry, I forgot to mention it, they just moved into a new home the last couple of months. We still have an apartment down in Hell’s Kitchen but my dad got some settlement money after he threw out his back on a job…They’re both settling in the town. Candace just got accepted to college and will be heading off next school year, so they figured it was time for them to move on and embrace calmer living.”

Matt frowned, “Hm.”

“What?” Foggy led them on an unfamiliar path, Matt’s elbow in one hand and suitcase in the other. Matt could hear a bird building a nest somewhere across from them. “Don’t like the country?”

“I’ve never been,” Matt admitted.

“Really?” Foggy smiled. “You’ve lived in New York your entire life and haven’t been upstate? There’s fresh air, trees, lakes and wildlife. Small towns and businesses full of republicans and hippies living in harmony.”

“I’ve never left Manhattan,” Matt explained. “Not once, it’s not as if I ever needed to or had the opportunity.”

“Never left Manhattan? What about that one time we went to the Bronx Zoo?”

“We didn’t go to the Bronx Zoo.”

“I’m pretty sure we did,” Foggy said somewhat emphatically. 

“Foggy, I would remember if we went to the Bronx Zoo. You must be thinking of the Central Park Zoo…Remember? They didn’t have elephants and you complained the entire time,” Matt didn’t know what Foggy was thinking bringing Matt to the Zoo, it was a primarily visual experience and Matt couldn’t properly enjoy it, everything just smelled. Though Foggy’s various descriptions of the sea lions were entertaining.

“Oh,” Foggy hummed thoughtfully. “I guess you’re right. Well! Congrats man, on taking the plunge to different realms of society.”

“Yeah,” Matt was glad Foggy had his arm, because he had absolutely no idea where they were. Though as they walked a bit longer he could finally pick up noise from what seemed to be a homein a clearing. “How much longer?” Matt asked.

“Not long, the path up to my parents house from the bus stop is probably…We’ve been walking for five minutes now? So we’ll be there in just a few, I can actually see it through the trees.”

“Why did your parents buy a house in the middle of the woods,” Matt complained.

“Nature!” Foggy yelled. “There’s even a lake within walking distance, and the town is a good 30-minute walk away, but we can do it if we wanted to meet the locals. My parents already walked like crazy around Hell’s Kitchen, anyway. We can go swimming!”

Matt wanted to protest, but didn’t feel like raining on Foggy’s parade. He had been to one public pool with his dad before he went blind, but save for that he never swam again. In fact, he didn’t even remember how to swim- and the water would probably mess with his senses anyway. 

Just as Foggy said, it only took a bit longer before Matt became aware that they were at the home, it was a decent size, but most of the space was outside. Matt could sense three bedrooms total (a larger one, separated from two smaller), a large kitchen, and small living space. There was no dining room, but he sensed a table and set of chairs on an outside back patio. 

The smell of cinnamon and old books seemed to follow into the new home just as he had noticed in their previous apartment. There were only two heartbeats in the home, both older people, Foggy’s sister Candace probably hadn’t showed up yet.

As they walked to the house steps he felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

“You ready?” Foggy asked, his fist hovered just over door. 

“Yeah,” Matt answered.

Foggy knocked, and only got one bang in before the door was opened abruptly.

The first thing Matt noticed was that he did a remarkable job on Foggy’s mother. She seemed healthy, her lungs were clear, and her heartbeat was steady and strong. She was fit, her hair brushed just above her ears, cut short. She had a glow, a comforting bit of energy to her. Foggy’s father was a bit less healthy, Matt noticed tension in his back, he was heavyset like his son, but he still had a commanding presence. 

“You must be Matt!” Foggy’s mom embraced him in a hug, which he was definitely not expecting, and tensed up immediately. That energy was definitely welcoming.

“Mom!” Foggy yelled. “I told you.”

She immediately let go, while her husband let out a hearty laugh, “Oh I’m sorry, honey,” She said to Matt. “I was just so excited to meet you, Foggy talks about you all the time! On and on, Matt this and that-“

“ ** _Mom_**.”

“Oh hush, Franklin! Am I not allowed to be excited?”

That’s when Foggy’s father spoke up, his voice considerably deeper than Matt expected, it reverberated in his chest like bass drum. A sharp contrast to his son’s more high-pitched speech, “We’re happy to meet you.”

Matt put out a hand to shake, happy that Foggy’s father was less likely to envelop him in a hug, “Nice to meet you too, Mr. and Mrs. Nelson.”

“Oh please, call me Edward,” He shook Matt’s hand in a firm grip. “I feel old enough already, if you start throwing Mister around, I suddenly envision myself in a nursing home.”

“And call me Anna, anything else and I might just refuse to offer you my homemade cookies.”

Foggy laughed, “That’s a serious threat, Matt. My mom’s cookies are the best on planet Earth.”

“And the only thing she knows how to cook,” Edward pitched in.

“That’s not true! I make a decent casserole,” Anna protested.

Edward made a dramatic retching sound and Anna playfully slapped him on the arm. Matt smiled just slightly, he liked Foggy’s parents. They were exuberant just like Foggy, and he could tell just how the personalities he grew up with influenced the man he is today.

They both welcomed them in and Matt was given the house tour. The conversations they had were very typical, about school, their future plans and the weather. Matt was grateful for something just a bit more usual…The Witch issue wasn’t brought up at all. That is, until Foggy’s sister Candace showed up.

It didn’t take her until the front door that she mentioned it, “I am back from the store! Bearing gifts of chips and dip,” She barreled in as they all sat about the living room. Interrupting a conversation about the law. Candace set the bags she was holding down and greeted her brother, “Big bro! I see you’ve brought your Witch roommate with you, I am really fucking psyched to learn about all his magic. I _so_ called it that he’d make friend with Witches, wasn’t his ex a fuckin’ Witch? Damn, you get around the coven.”

Matt was tight-lipped and suddenly felt very put out. 

“Language, Candace,” Edward warned. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” she said.

“Candy,” Foggy laughed and stood up to her a tight hug, “Always the little brat.”

“And you’ll always be a dork,” Candace admitted. “There’s nothing that can be done about it.”

Matt didn’t want to be rude. He stood up and held out a hand, “I’m Matt, though I hear that Foggy talks a lot about me.” He did he best to try and glare just briefly in Foggy’s general direction. 

Candace took his hand, and shook…And just in the moment he felt something off, a brief spark of something that came into his awareness. He put his hand back, and tried to place the feeling. Candace didn’t seem to notice anything, though. And just spoke herself, “I’m sure Foggy doesn’t talk much about me. He’s ashamed of me.”

“Oh, no,” Matt said distracted. “He only says good things.” What the hell was that feeling? It felt familiar, but he couldn’t quite find the right memory to stick.

“What are you talking about?” Foggy protested. “I obviously only say horrible, horrible, things about my little teenage sister.”

“I am an adult now, Fog! You should treat me as such,” She took a seat just as Matt sat down. “I have a lot of questions for Matt, though. So what’s it like to be a Witch?”

“It’s nothing special,” He said casually. 

“You know I’m going to be majoring in Witchcraft Studies at NYU,” She explained. “Ever since I heard about the first-born thing with Foggy I’ve been _obsessed_ with magic. Don’t worry, I extinguished any lingering biases my family might have about Witches.”

Matt noticed everybody tense just slightly when she said the word ‘first-born.’ He smiled anyway, “Well, thanks I guess.”

“Do you have a family line? I haven’t heard of the Murdock line, just not too sure, but it’s not like every Witch’s line is well-known. Though I know that Marci Stahl had a line. Did you know her great grandfather ran his own coven? It’s pretty crazy,” She rambled and threw her feet up on the coffee table.

“Oh, no, I don’t have a family line because my father was a Matchless,” Matt explained. “I went to the coven later in life.”

“Why did you choose to?” She asked. Matt could feel her come closer, her heartbeat fluttering in excitement. She was obviously very passionate about the subject. 

Matt shrugged, “Benefits.” It wasn’t really a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth. Something flashed in his awareness, that same feeling he got when she shook his hand. 

It was then that the realization really hit him. She had a shielding spell on her, a weak one (the same that Elektra used when they’d first met) but enough that it threw him off her trail. Just the brief flashes indicated the spell was hard to maintain, it reminded him of some of his earlier work when he was young. 

“Benefits?” She asked. “That’s an odd explanation, you know, I was reading and apparently one of the main reasons Matchless are ever brought to the coven are,” She paused. Probably coming to her own realization.

In the pause Foggy took his opportunity, “Well, while I’d love to keep hearing this riveting conversation, I’ve had enough witchcraft talk for semester.” Foggy laughed. “And I’m starving!”

“I’ll get to making dinner,” Edward said. 

“I’ll go help you, honey,” Anna said and followed him away. The fact that Edward didn’t argue, or say anything about her cooking skills, gave way to the fact they weren’t fully over witchcraft. Matt knew they were uncomfortable, and couldn’t bring himself to be bitter about it. Witchcraft was an odd thing that defied a lot of laws, and for Regulars it made sense to be off-put by it.

“Why didn’t you fucking tell me, Foggy?” Candace said in a harsh whisper to her brother. “Seriously? You dick.”

“Tell you what?” Foggy said innocently. 

“While I appreciate the attempt at a save,” Matt said. “I think your sister is smart enough to know that Matchless almost never transition to covens unless they’re forced to. Though usually it’s not something _Regulars_ know.” He said it in a way that he hoped made the point.

If Foggy’s heartbeat meant anything, he probably caught on. The Nelson family was smart. 

“Yeah, I may have not mentioned that,” Candace’s cheeks just had that small uptick of heat. She was blushing. 

“Mentioned what? My dear sister?” Foggy said, his teeth were clenched for each word. 

“I only found out after the first-born debacle,” She dropped her shielding spell. Matt’s ears felt clearer, his shoulders un-tensed. It was easy to forget how much the presence of magic in a room could change his disposition.

“You’re an Inkling,” Matt raised an eyebrow. “No wonder your spell was so bad.”

Most Inklings never even knew they had magic, just went through their lives thinking that the strange bouts of intuition they had, unnatural luck, and odd events that happened when they were upset were simply coincidence. 

For the few that ever realized they have magic, it was almost unheard of for them to ever be accepted into a coven…Since they weren’t naturals at spells, they were considered unworthy, and Inklings were just another facet of Regular society. The only exception was if they were given up as a first-born, then usually a Witch would train them for a charge.

Most run of the mill psychics were Inklings (whether they knew it or not) and some leading career choices included religious leaders, medical professions, and military work. Having just that bit of magic in a battlefield or emergency room made them gifted at their jobs. 

“Yeah, yeah. I already submitted paperwork to the coven but they’ve been giving me a lot of pushback. I’ve been practicing. And you! You’re a Claimed first-born,” There was change in the air current, she was jabbing a finger at him. “What’s your charge? I mean it could be anywhere in Manhattan, even New York, but I’m betting it’s Hell’s Kitchen right?”

“He never really wanted to do it,” Foggy explained. “If you know so much about witchcraft then you should know that the coven doesn’t give Claimed first-borns any sort of choice in the matter.”

“You’re still sleeping with the enemy,” Candace growled.

“And you have magic!” Foggy yelled, but then grew quiet when he knew that his parents could probably hear him. “Who else knows?”

“Just me, and whatever poor sap has to sort through my paperwork.”

“Wait,” Matt frowned. Inkling magic was most commonly passed down through families, and that energy he felt around Foggy’s mom…He let himself reach out. No _wonder_ , his magic worked so well on her. “Oh.”

“What?” Candy asked.

“Did you know your mom was an Inkling, as well?” He leaned in. “A very, very weak one. So much so it’s barely there…And if your mom is an Inkling and it is passed down through family line…” But he had never felt that sort of magic with Foggy. He would have _known_ if Foggy was an Inkling.

“My mom is an Inkling?” Foggy’s heartbeat was faster than ever. “Does that mean I don’t owe you my first-born? You said magic works both ways, those who have it don’t face the consequences-”

“That’s not how it works Foggy, you’re the one who summoned me. It doesn’t matter whether your mother had magic, it’s you who faces the consequences,” Matt elaborated. “But you  _must_ be an Inkling as well Foggy. Maybe a very weak one, if I can’t even feel it.” A smile bloomed on his face. This meant Foggy wouldn’t face the consequences, he’d be happy and healthy and his child would be his own-

But Foggy didn’t seem happy. Neither did Candace.

“She’s not my biological mother, Matt.”


End file.
